


All this never interested you, but you have to notice when it's directed at you

by therune



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune
Summary: dh-kinkmeme fill - https://dishonored-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/446.html?thread=477886Daud might be a skilled killer, and he's learnt to deal with people socially for contracts, but what if in the realms of love, the confidence slips and he's just a confused lovesick puppy?Meanwhile the silent stalker in the night, the quiet lord protector who'd stand guard over the empress as still as a statue, is a master at the art of seduction? (Not that he finds need for it often)So, how about some fluff, with a very confident Corvo and an easily flustered Daud?also known as:Smooth af Corvo who is secretly a little shitDaud as the asexual confused dad of a dozen murder kidsand the aforementioned murder kids who don't take kindly to sharing dad with anyone





	1. Chapter 1

(AU where Daud never killed Jess, helped uncover the conspiracy and everything is sunshine, kittens and rainbows)

"You really don't see it?" Billie asks. She has her feet up on his desk, checking her crossbow's firing mechanism. Daud raises his head from the report on the actions of the Boyle family and their interesting financial investments.   
"You are delusional," he decides.  
"Come on, I know that," she waves her hands around, trying to encapsulate for what she doesn't have words into a shape, "all this never interested you, but you have to notice when it's directed at you."  
Daud grunts. It's true, the wanton flesh, as the abbey put it, never interested him. Often he felt like most people were dogs chasing after meat while he just couldn't see the point in eating it, the others making fools out of themselves for reasons he could understand theoretically but never feel himself. But that doesn't mean that he can't reognize those desires.   
He's had his share of people propositioning him during the Fugue, potential employers trying to sweeten the deal, people offering or demanding pleasures. So when Billie asks him about this, he's fairly certain she's teasing him.   
Ever since they started working for the Empress, Billie has found new ways to pester him. Her latest scheme is apparently her obsession over his lack of obsession with this topic. 

"Seriously, old man, the Lord Protector is flirting with you," she insists, "pay some attention to the way he's speaking to you next time."  
"Thank you, Billie" he says and it means that he considers this conversation over. 

 

He meets Attano the next day, sharing the results of his latest mission.  
"The Boyles have connections to Burrows and his ilk, we uncovered a portrait in his possessions showing one of the sisters," he talks.  
"That's good, Daud. Which sister does it show?"  
"We're not sure," Daud admits.  
Attano raises an eyebrow. "Is it that bad? Or does it emits certain parts of her anatomy that leads to her identification? I thought Campbell's lair was bad enough-"  
"No, not like that. It shows her back."  
Did Attano just wink at him? No, must have been his imagination. He gos over the rest of his findings.  
"That's good work, Lord Spymaster," Corvo concludes, his tone a bit teasing. Then he grabs Daud's shoulder and squeezes, before he leaves.

That means nothing. 

 

Daud remains convinced of his opinion. Even after Corvo brings him a case of cigars and they spend the night talking and smoking. And after Billie brings him a parcel; a red coat, fashioned for him after a suggestion from the Lord Protector. She pats his cheek when he insists that it's not flirting. Also after weeks with casual touches, invitations to dinner, invitations to spar, daily talks about everything and nothing. 

What does break his firm resolve of not being flirted with, is when - one day, after reminiscing about Serkonos - Corvo - Lord Protector has become Attano and without Daud's knowledge or consent has turned into 'Corvo' in his head - gets up, his hand brushes Daud's, both marks flaring briefly. A playful grin dances on his face as he lifts Daud's gloved hand and presses a quick kiss to the back of it.  
"I do enoy our talks, Daud, and I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."  
Then he leaves and Daud sits in shock for a minute, his face as red as brick.   
Oh.  
That definetely was flirting.  
And considering their past interactions while keeping this new revelation in mind....Corvo had been flirting with him for weeks.   
And Daud had enjoyed it. 

He rubs his gloved hand over his face, flinches when he remembers that this is where Corvo's lips just were. 

Daud grabs a bottle of whiskey, ponders for a second, grabs another bottle and calls for Billie with his ability.   
He presents her with the first bottle and a 'you were right'. She smirks and they let their bottles clink together.   
"Tell me everything, old man," she demands, settling into the chair where Corvo has been before.

So he does, telling her about their encounters, things Corvo has said. At first, she smirks, but then her face grows soft. She places a hand on his knee.   
"You're in love, old man."

He protests. Those things, as she put it, still don't interest him. Corvo is handsome - Daud isn't blind - and considered very attractive, but Daud still doesn't feel that kind of longing. 

Billie shakes her head. "There's more to love than sex. You don't need one for the other....or the other way round."  
He feels sheepish. He's past 40 and Billie is not only younger, she's ....she's family. If any, it should be the other way round, but...

"What do I do?" he asks. 

"If you return his affections, you can just....return them. Say kind things. That he makes you miserable bastard smile. Bring gifts, thing he'd like. Court him, properly."

Daud looks as if she told him he'd have to drink poison.

"Start small," she offers. 

He doesn't look convinced. 

Slowly, she gets up and walks over to where he sits. Daud has never been unsure of anything. When she saw him for the first time - strong, fast, unwavering - she'd wanted to be like him and followed him past lethal drops into the wolf's den. He taught her, raised her and .... Outsider's balls, why not

She puts her arms around him, resting her cheek on the top of his head.   
"I want you to be happy, old man."  
He lifts his hand to rest it on her arm. 

 

 

The next day, he has a massive hangover. Half of it is caused by the crash of emotions, half of it is due to the whiskey he emptied with Billie. She had shared some of her past with Deirdre, a childhood friend turned lover. And how she regrets not having spent more time with her, not saying everything she'd wanted to say.   
"It's not too late for you," had been her last words that night. 

Nevertheless, he plunges headfirst into work. Untangling the web of conspiracy takes forever - will take years to clean up completely, but it's worth it.   
Around noon, there's a knock on his door.   
Of course it's Corvo. 

The inkpot next to him almost lands on his boot, he has flinched so violently.  
"Everything alright?" Corvo asks with concern in his voice.   
"Yes, it's... I mean" Daud feels his face heat up.   
Corvo lays a hand on his shoulder.  
"You can talk to me if something troubles you," he offers.  
Daud draws a breath. "It has come to my attention that... you have been flirting." It comes out almost accusatory and Daud wants to melt into the ground and disappear.   
"I was, yes," Corvo admits and he doesn't look ashamed. He looks confident, stating a fact, as if this doesn't shake Daud's entire world apart. 

"Does it make you uncomfortable? I didn't think it would cause you great distress," Corvo is starting to apologize and this goes wrong, this is the opposite of what he wants.

"It doesn't distress me, it's merely... I'm unused to it."

"So you don't object?" Corvo's eyes are so hopeful something in Daud's chest snaps.

"I..." his voice falters, "I don't object. It's ..."

"I can get you used to it," Corvo announces as if all problems could be solved by this.

"What?"

"If it's a question of frequency, I can simply increase my efforts."  
Daud looks as if he's been punched. 

Corvo brings his other hand up and slowly strokes it up and down Daud's arm.   
"You have a fascinating, singularly focused mind, a quality which I greatly admire," Corvo whispers seductively into his ear.   
Daud can't supress the shudder that goes through him at that.   
"You're always so composed; neat and not a hair out of place. I've been craving to ruffle your feathers for quite a while."

Corvo leans forward, places his cheek next to Daud's so he can whisper directly in his ear.  
"I wondered what you'd look like with that level of control diminished, stripped away. You must be a magnificent sight."  
And that's it, Daud has to tell Corvo. That he expects things Daud can't...   
It's not that Daud can't give him those things. Nor is he unwilling as such. He's just not interested. 

"I... there's something I have to tell you, Corvo. I've always had this.... or rather, I've never had it. It's..."

"You can talk to me freely. Or don't, if this secret is something you'd rather not discuss." Corvo makes it clear that he doesn't need Daud to explain himself if he doesn't want to. And... doesn't this mean that he can trust Corvo?

"I've never had sex," he blurts out and wants to hit his head against the brick wall. Usually he is capable of more eloquence. It's as if his mouth is actively trying to drive Corvo away.

"That's fine," Corvo says, and he looks like he actually means it. 

"It's not like I can't," Daud replies quickly, "I've just -"

"never had occasion?" Corvo suggests.

"Never had any interest," Daud confesses instead, "neither man nor woman hold any interest for me."

"Thanks for telling me," Corvo tells him and Daud's eyes are glued to a spot on the floor. He just knows that his face and ears are burning red. He fucked up.

Corvo raises a hand slowly to his chin and tilts his face up, so they can look at each other directly.   
"I like you," Corvo begins, "and I will never demand anything of you that you are not willing to give. If you wish me to cease physical touches-"

"No," Daud interjects sounding more panicked than he means to, "I'm not averse to... touches. Or intimacy. I'd like it if... if you didn't stop."

Corvo smiles brilliantly.   
Then he leans closer still and presses a soft kiss to Daud's scarred cheek, the points of contact - his lips on Daud's cheek, his fingers on Daud's chin, his hand on Daud's shoulder - are wells of inmeasurable warmth. 

"Is this to your liking?"

Unable to speak, he can only nod. 

"Then I shall continue."


	2. Chapter 2

True to his word, Corvo continues.   
He brings over a bottle of Tyvian Red and they're halfway in, coats off and lounging in their seats. Corvo brushes the back of his hand with his fingers and while Daud startles – it's been some time since someone laid a hand on him without trying to hurt him – he doesn't take back his hand. Corvo grins – which is a fetching look on him and most decidely unfair – as he instead turns his hand so that the palm faces upwards and allows Corvo to lace their fingers together. They talk of nothing and everything as Corvo's thumb traces patterns over his skin. Finally, Corvo stands, leans over Daud who hopes that he only feels like a trapped deer and doesn't look like it as well. It's overwhelming and Daud's eyes close without consulting his brain. Corvo's lips against his cheek are a brand and a balm at the same time.   
“Sweet dreams. I hope there's a place in your night for me soon.”  
Daud flushes as red as his coat and sits still like a statue until Corvo has left the room. 

 

It doesn't stop there. A compliment when they spar. Another when they discuss their strategy to get rid of the conspiracy by taking down everyone who was involved and Daud points out something clever. A warm, big hand pressed to the small of his back as they both lean over a map of Dunwall. Daud wants to return the gestures, but he doesn't know how. Corvo just smiles when he tells him that. He's not mad or disappointed or humoring him. This might be the first time in his life that anyone showed Daud patience and he doesn't know how to deal with that. 

 

Courting. Courting. He has seen countless nobles and studied their habits. He knows how this works in theory. And his year at the Academy taught him that he was always better in practice than theories. So, what stops him from just doing it?   
It feels a bit like fear, but never painful. It's like standing at the edge of a very high tower, looking down, ready to jump. He's done that more than he's had dinner. Just doing it solves this problem. Overthinking is his problem. What ifs heaped upon what ifs. Just go for it.   
Make Corvo happy. Corvo likes....what does Corvo like? He likes Jess and Emily as if they were his own. He likes fighting. He likes...Daud?  
Which helps not at all.   
This is frustrating.   
Daud goes to work because that is a thing he knows well and is good at.

 

He returns two days later, information burning a hole in his pockets. He wants a shower. Food. Corvo.  
What he finds is another thing altogether. Emily is having a tea party in the gardens, her new bodyguards perplexed guests. The whalers – former whalers – hold dainty teacups in one hand and pastries in the other. Daud feels smug satisfaction at seeing others out of their depth as well. Until the princess calls him over. He bows with a flourish, making her laugh.   
“We're having a party,” she explains as if it wasn't obvious.   
“Would you care for a mulberry biscuit?” Rulfio asks, carefully maintaining a neutral expression. Daud gives him a look that promises hurt later on, because the princess claps her hand in delight.   
“Oh yes! Sit with us!”  
So he does, gets a cup of his own and a sweet pastry of his own.   
Emily complains about her lessons, her strict governess and troubles that Daud should find laughable. When he was her age...   
Before he can sink too deep into his memories, he plucks at the grass, sees the flowers and has an idea. His dignity may never recover – although he's fallen far from the ruthless Knfe of Dunwall, having a tea party with two of his whalers watching – but she will like it. 

“Sweetspring for youth, “ he explains, “redblossom for love and white jezelea for good fortune” as he weaves the flowers together in a flower crown. It's a cheap trick his mother taught him once, imbuing flowers with more meaning than they should have. He knows about their properties, what they really do. But this fanfare is much more impressive. Emily almost vibrates out of her skin as she watches his fingers twists the stems into shape. She wears it proudly and of course this is the moment Corvo enters the garden. 

“Corvo! Look what Daud made for me!” 

The smile on Corvo's face does things to Daud's insides. He feels like he swallowed a live bloodfly, it would explain the fluttering in his ribcage.   
And so Daud is roped into making more, the garden supplying them with more colorful flowers. As he makes one for Rulfio, he is sure to include everthistle “for you” he explains and looks him into the eyes, hoping the murderous intent is clearly visible and understood. He adds a little chant he half remembers in his mother's native tongue. He relaxes a bit when Rulfio looks sufficiently afraid. 

“What was that? Can you teach me?” Emily's eyes grow as big as saucers.

So he spends the rest of the afternoon making flowercrowns and answering her questions patiently. He censors most of his story, but keeping it morbid enough for a curious eleven year old. Born on a pirate ship to a mother from Pandyssia and the captain. He omits that his mother killed the captain before he was even born and took over the ship herself. Raised under the Serkonan sun by his witch mother. Again, he twists the tale into another direction, making his mother a fairytale character instead of the shrewd death dealer she could become if sufficiently provoked. Claiming he left for adventure instead of being stolen, beaten and abused until he could get away. He also leaves out the part where he was marked by the Outsider, choosing to rather tell her about the year he spent at the academy. Both she and Corvo get in a few jabs about Sokolov and he smiles. Serves that creep right. His whalers listen with rapt attention. They know the true story – to a degree anyway – but he likes that anyway. 

In the end, Emily's governess finds them. What a ridiculous sight they must make, four adults wearing flower crowns, clothes speckled with crumbs, sitting on the grass like children. She makes a fuss, herding Emily back to her rooms. Daud commands his men to clean up before he and Corvo leave the garden. 

As soon as they're out of sight, Corvo places a hand on his shoulder. He crowds Daud against the wall, but Daud doesn't feel cornered. He doesn't want to lash out and escape. It feels ….nice. A tiny voice that sounds a lot like Billie tells him that the word he's looking for is 'safe'.   
Corvo is looking down, takes in his face. He breathes in, then raises both hands to cup Daud's face.   
Daud can feel the blood rising to his cheeks.   
“You gave her a wonderful afternoon. Told her stories, made her a flowercrown. Made one for me.” The crowns lay abandoned on the grass, a brief fleeting fancy. Corvo's crown was made of redblossoms. Not that he told him what they meant.   
“Allow me,” Corvo says and before Daud can ask what – not that he'd refuse – Corvo presses his lips against Daud's. It's a chaste kiss. Sweet.   
It turns Daud's world upside down. His knees grow weak and he has to scramble at the wall not to fall to the ground.   
"Thank you," Corvo whispers against his lips as he moves away, just an inch or so.   
"Thank me?" Daud asks confused.   
Corvo presses another kiss to his brow and then straightens up.   
Daud's insides melt at the sight, eyes darting to his lips. 

 

When he later confides in Billie over a bottle (or five) of Gristol Cider, she almost falls off her chair with laughter at his confused expression.   
"There are other ways to a man's heart than through his stomach," she explains later from the floor, not trusting her legs quite yet, "you found the best one and don't even realize it."  
"Flowers?"  
She laughs again.


	3. Chapter 3

It turns out that the first kiss was like breaking a dam. Daud is showered with kisses and doesn't know how to deal with it. Physical comfort is almost alien to him. Even with the Whalers he's been distant (or had at least tried to be, those street rats had their ways of getting under his skin and behind his defenses). But even after all this, romantic attraction is an undiscovered country for him.   
At first, his back gets ramrod-straight, arms uselessly at his side when Corvo kisses him goodybe. Once he confesses that he feels deeply embarassed (and ashamed. He's not telling Corvo that, but somehow that bastard knows anyway, like he always does), Corvo guides Daud's hand to his own shoulders.  
“So you have something to hold on when I take your breath away and you grow weak in the knees,” he explains with a wink. So of course, as a first response, he steps on Corvo's foot hard – he's still Daud after all. How he went from that (and a blush) to clinging to Corvo's coat, eyes slipping close and pathetically grateful for a door with a functioning lock (and walls without holes and a full roof. Living in the Flooded District has really lowered his standards. Also works well to keep out prying whalers). Corvo keeps their kisses sweet, with his hands cupping Daud's face or placing one on the small of Daud's back. Daud is thankful for it, already feeling out of his depth. He's not sure how he would handle more. 

 

While the Whalers – except for Billie who swore in a rare bout of protectiveness never to share his secret – don't know what's happening, they know that something is off and gossip like he fishmongers.  
“He's changed,” Rinaldo complains one day. Daud overhears him because he's perched on one of the stupidly solid and massive bookcases . The reason he's up there in the first place is because old habits are hard to break and he has to map out possible escape routes wherever he is. It's absolutely not because he's trying to avoid Lord Sparke who has been pestering him for an audience so that he can recommend his daughter for the Spymaster's ranks. The Whalers are sitting around a half-forgotten game of Nancy (all the better for it because Zeke has been cheating the entire time)  
“We're sitting in the damn palace. Last year at that time we were in a half-collapsed building with half a roof and weepers as neighbors. Of course he's changed.”  
“Nah, I don't mean that. He does that thing with his face,” Desmond explains.  
“Smiling?” Rulfio suggests.   
“Holy shit, that is him smiling? It's fucking terrifying!”  
They laugh.  
“It's Daud, what did you expect? Even when he's happy he's murderous.”  
This time their laughter is interrupted when he clears his throat and stands up.  
They all grow pale and rush from their game, abandoning coin, cards and in some cases clothes. Their screams of “Outsider, run!” and “I'm sorry!” do much to settle something in his chest. It feels a bit like anxiety unraveling and... he lacks the words for more. He feels out of his depth quite often recently, but he's learning to swim, bit by bit. 

 

The afternoon in the gardens is what cemented him as 'hers' in Emily's eyes. She is quite adept at finding times when he's not busy with his work and can spare some hours for her; she probably learned to judge Corvo's habits early on and wrapped him around her little finger, and now she's doing the same with Daud. Strangely, he doesn't mind. As a rule, he's awful with kids. He just has to look at the street rats he took in and how they turned out, to know that he's shit at raising kids, teaching responsibility or help someone turn into an adult. 

With Emily it's easier....probably because he has two other people to actually look after her so it's not bad if he fucks up. There is an actual parent involved, caring and a lot of love. So, he knows that a responsible parent would say 'no' when Emily asks for lessons with a wristbow... but he's neither, so that's how they end up facing a straw dummy propped against a wall. He took Aidan's bow – his is the smallest – and shoved the man off the roof when he protested. He's fine – falling is the first thing the Whalers learn, if they haven't done so already when they meet him. The bow is loaded with practice bolts – sticks with a padded end that are incapable of actually hurting someone. Which was something he demonstrated when Aidan reappeared, meekly asking for his bow back 'please'. Daud had guided Emily's arm and she fired. The bolt hit his boot. Although he couldn't have actually felt any pain through the thick leather, Aidan had theatrically sunken to the ground anyway, lamenting the loss of his young life, cruelly taken so early, in the prime of his life. Emily giggles, Daud throws a rock at him which elicts an genuine 'ow' and then he scrambles away, mumbling under his breath until Daud asks him to repeat himself. Then he walks away faster, but silently.   
The lesson is fairly undramatic, barely explaining the basics of aiming and weapon safety before Corvo shows up. Emily leaps into his arms, excitedly telling him about her day, then – of course- goes in great detail over how Daud got her a potentially lethal weapon and has shown her how to shoot people with it. Maybe he should have gone for a more traditional circular target, but the tought never occurred to him before right at that moment, so it's too late anyway.   
Corvo's face is unreadable. Daud's not sure if he just can't decipher the shown emotion or if Corvo appears blank because he wants to. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a mistake. Corvo sends Emily away, but not before she returns the bow and the pouch of bolts, carefully going over the safety procedure loudly. Daud gives her a quick smile and nods approvingly. She hurries away, leaving Daud with his growing feeling of dread. And Corvo.

 

“She asked,” he blurts out, needing to explain himself, words tumbling from his lips, “and it was just with practice bolts. She couldn't have hurt herself. I watched. And”

“Let me guess,” Corvo interrupts and steps closer, hands finding their place on Daud's hips, making Daud's dread dissolve like ink in water as warmth crawls up his spine all the way into his cheeks “you can't say no to her, even if you wanted to?”

“She's a great kid,” Daud answers, hoping it's enough. Only then does he find the courage to raise his eyes to Corvo's face. He only has a few seconds to take in Corvo's kind smile before he is kissed. Corvo is an anchor in the storm of Daud's feelings, his hands feel heavy on secure on Daud's body. Daud lets his own hands hover uncertain over Corvo's upper arms. Would he be welcome to?

“Go on. I've missed your arms around my shoulders,” Corvo says with a cheeky grin – Daud can't see it, his eys have the unfortunate habit to slip closed during kisses, but he just feels it's there. Daud obliges, looping his arms over Corvo's shoulders. That earns him another kiss, brushed against his cheek. 

“I discovered you half an hour ago,” Corvo confesses, lips moving against Daud's ear.

“But why didn't you-” Do what? Stop Daud? Save Emily? Bring an end to his pathetic attempt of connecting with people? Daud knows he's sorely lacking in that development – see aforementioned whalers, barely knowing how to speak with one of them without a hint of violence somewhere.

“She was having fun, you were watching out for her. The only one in danger was the dummy.”

Daud knows his face must match his coat for the crimson color. Corvo must feel it burning when Daud ducks his head and buries his face against Corvo's neck.   
“You're not upset?” he asks, voice muffled.

Corvo rests his chin on the top of Daud's head, places one hand on the small of Daud's back and uses the other to slowly stroke his hair.  
“I'm grateful. No one could harm Emily with you around and despite all your work, you find time for her and help her grow.”

Daud feels like he could crumble, be blown away like dust if not for Corvo who holds him together somehow with his gentle touch and kind words. 

“Thank you,” he forces out as his voice is trying to desert him. For this, for everything. Words aren't is strong suit, never have been, but it's like Corvo can hear him nevertheless. Corvo hums and Daud can feel it vibrating in Corvo's chest against his own. He's not sure how long they stay there, holding onto each other and trading soft kisses every now and then.


	4. Chapter 4

Daud's convinced he would call it lowering his guard except that it only works on Corvo. He is – sometimes even to a degree, painfully – aware of who is in the room, where they are exactly and hw they move. It' a side effect of his work (or his past, more likely). His personal space is an unbreachable fortress, fiercely defended against all attackers. Except for the Whalers who don't even count as court jesters at the best of times, Emily and Jessamine – they're empresses, they belong in a fortress so it doesn't bother him – and Corvo, of course.  
He accepts when Emily grabs his hand to lead him away to show him something interesting (like the time a kingfisher had flown into her room and couldn't figure out how to escape again, when she found a map of Pandyssia in her history book and asked where he was from or that time she showed him the best hiding spot where Corvo has never found her).  
He accepts Jessamine offering him a glass of Old Dunwall when they discuss state matters and he doesn't flinch when their fingers happen to brush.  
He accepts when she fusses over the state of his appearance. It's not his fault Corvo got him that new coat and that it's cut differently from his whaler's outfit or that Corvo keeps running his fingers through Daud's hair every chance he gets. It's only fair if Daud repays him in kind). And Corvo – Daud probably lets Corvo get away with too much, all things considered. 

Once they combine their efforts, he's hopelessly lost.  
One afternoon finds them in the gazebo. Jesamine is telling her daughter about the changes in the city. The weepers are penned in near Holger Square, awaiting treatment, safe behind the modified Walls of Light. Sokolov, the royal physician and holder of a dozen or so titles of more or less intriguing nature, has reconfigured them to be non-lethal with the help of another scientist, Joplin from Joplin's Remedy, a competing – or rather, as it had turned out to be, complimentary – product to Sokolov's own elixir. Together they are working on perfecting the cure for the Plague. While it was capable at the time of preventing infection in the first place at the beginning and now can heal those who contracted it in its first stages, their formula can be improved to cure even the most dire cases. There are preparations to drain the Flooded District and rebuild it. Daud thinks that you can't see any of those changes from where they are standing, but he supposes that it's the thought that counts. Corvo stands guard behind them, as always. He smiles when Daud approaches.  
Emily greets him with an enthusiastic wave while Jessamine accepts the letter he's carrying. It's from Duke Theodanis of Serkonos, pledging allegiance to the Empress and promising to dispatch workers to help with the restoration of the Dunwall.  
“Isn't that where you used to live?” Emily asks, pointing to the dilapidated buildings of Rudshore.  
“It was,” he confirms. He can't say that he misses the ruin they lived in with its half-rotten roof, broken floors (and also ceilings) and river krusts as neighbors, but still, it was home once.  
“What was it again?” Jessamine asks with a sly grin that tells him that she knows the answer already and just wants him to say it. If you ask him, this expression suits her far more than the bland elegance her official portraits show.  
“The Imperial Bank, your majesty.”  
“Is that the one with the big statue of Mommy?” The same grin does not look as endearing on Emily's face as it does on her mother's. Absolutely not.  
“Yes, it is.”  
“It must be exciting to live in a bank. The many offices, archives, and a big vault,” Emily muses.  
“We only lived on the top floors. The rest of the bank was uninhabitable.”  
“Because of the weepers?” she guesses and seems disappointed when Daud anwers that it was more due to structural damage, the cellar underwater, supports rotten, furniture and windows broken.  
Then she gets an idea.  
“Did you dive to the vault? Looking for treasure like pirates?” her eyes shine with excitement, her mind already placing the Whalers in a fantastic story with lost gold, brave adventures and thrilling dangers. Daud almost wishes he was any good at lying, that way he could refrain from dampening her dreams, but he's blunt with his words (which means that when his job calls for him to be polite or subtle, he is silent and glares until people go away. It did get Jessamine to hide a smile behind a feigned cough before bellowing a big laugh once an offended noble leaves after suggesting that a Serkonan might not be intellectually capable of understanding royal duties and only meeting Daud's flat, unimpressed gaze). Plus, it's pointless to lie to children, they know when you screw with them.  
“Nah, too many river krusts. They spit acid and their shells are as tough as steel. Plus, we would need to open the safes underwater since they were too heavy to drag to the surface. Which is difficult because grenades don't work properly when submerged in water.”  
“That sounded well thought-out,” Corvo interjects and Daud glares at him hard before replying.  
“It's an explanation I've had to repeat multiple times to multiple interested parties.” Corvo grins. He knows that it's pointless to house whalers on top of a vault, filled with the valuables of Dunwall's population, and not expect them to want to rob it blind. In the end, Rulfio and Amara tried it. The resulting damage from the untimely detonated grenades had collapsed most of the first floor and a sizeable portion of the second, forcing them to move even higher, much to the dismay of Zeke and Amara herself, for whom the part of their bond which allowed his Whalers to vanish and reach distant places had never really taken hold and who were forced to climb the large chain anytime they wanted to leave or return.  
Daud gets back into Emily's good graces when he tells her to ask him later about the summer he spent in Cullero, diving for pearls. 

They are interrupted when guads come to accompany Jessamine to an audience with representative of some of the most prominent noble families in all of Gristol who wish to complain about the new tax for rebuilding the city which applies only to the citizens with a large income. As much as he hates talking and nobles, Daud almost wishes he were present to see this happening, since Jessamine - who has always had a sharp wit and tongue – is, after the recent coup and assassination attempt, much less inclined to show patience and consideration for the noble class who threw parties and squabbled amongst themselves when the people died in droves outside of their doors. Before she leaves, she fixes Emily's collar and tells her to be good, brushes Corvo's hair out of his face and asking him to get a haircut, and finally straightens Daud's lapel. “At least someone here knows how to shave,” she says with a wink. 

She disappears behind the doors to the throne room, Emily climbs on the railing and Corvo shamefully abuses the fact that Daud's attention is fixed on Emily, hand ready to grab her if she should even just seem to move in an unexpected manner. While she is quite safe, sitting on the railing, legs tangled with the steel rods, hands holding strong; he strikes. The warm hand on Daud's chin is familiar, the other curling around the nape of his neck is a comforting weight. But when Corvo tightens his grip and drags his stubble across Daud's smooth cheek, rubbing like an overly affectionate hound, grinning as he does so, Daud squawks in surprise and protest. He tries to get away, but that only encourages Corvo to hold him tighter and grind his stubbly cheek in Daud's skin.  
“You bastard!” Daud forces out between bouts of laughter, trying to look cross and failing utterly.  
“That's what you get for shaving,” Corvo explains, “making Jess think I should look presentable, too.”  
Emily giggles at Daud's red face – red, not just from Corvo's unfair treatment, but also Daud's furious blush.  
Then Corvo manhandles Daud to the ground, making him sit next to him on the stone floor. “Tell Emily abou Cullero,” he suggests. Emily, of course, is delighted and joins them.  
As Daud speaks of the coastal town, its white beaches and bright blue sea, of the cliffs he used to climb and toss himself off, of the pearl diving (Cullero being home to a family of creatures related to river krusts but a tenth in size with none of the acidity and ability to kill) he relaxes into the hand Corvo has placed on his back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud's doubts raise their ugly head.
> 
> Additional WARNING for this chapter:  
> contains references to child abuse and violence against children  
> nothing graphic, just references, be careful with your media consumption, please

Daud is happy. Well and truly happy. It takes some getting used to, but he likes it so much he doesn't have words to capture the sheer magnitude.  
Of course he fucks it up.

Half of his life has remained the same. He trains his skills and body, he spars with the Whalers and instructs them, he goes out into the city to gather information on a contract. On the one contract he has and will ever have now. Old habits die hard so he still checks the security measures, watches for threats from all angles and when he sneaks into the Whalers' quarters now and then at night to count them and feel blessed relief....well, that's his business. But something's different; lighter, comes probably closest. He's taught the Whalers all he knows – which is little more than fighting, stealing and using every dirty trick to survive – but now they don't have to stop with that. They have a choice. All of them still fight, most of them want to learn more. Rulfio can be found in the library, pouring over maps and travel reports from all over the Isles. Thomas shadows Sokolov and Joplin, expressing a desire to look into medicine. And Billie...Billie soaks up knowledge like a sponge. She does remind Daud of himself, when he had sneaked into the Academy and spent a winter there, marveling at the wealth of knowledge the world has to offer. Perhaps, in another life...

 

But he's always lived with a blade in his hand, and still does now. Corvo and he have followed a couple of rogue Overseers to the docks. After exposing Campbell, most of the Abbey was very quick to distance themselves from him and cut all ties. But if the black book of blackmail (and the secret room) is any indication, corruption runs deep in the ranks of the Overseers and this group has chosen to run rather than face justice and a fair trial. There is no shortage of crimes in the book and although they haven't identified these men because of the damn masks, they must have done something that makes fleeing from the Lord Protector a reasonable course of action. Corvo in action is a sight to behold – his reputation as the Isles' best swordsman justified in Daud's eyes. Daud is no slouch himself, but his powers are what make him dangerous. He looks for dangers and sees through walls, warns Corvo and yes – he shows off, zipping over rooftops and using vantage points Corvo can't reach. They're on the roof of a fishmonger, the salty breeze from the Wrenhaven barely enough to carry away the stench. The Overseers are in an alley nearby, talking in hushed voices about smugglers and how to get out of Dunwall, Gristol itself if possible. They carry some luggage, two brown leather bags and a big trunk. Daud would drop down on them like a particularly vicious kingfisher, but Corvo – ever so noble – wants to offer them a last chance. 

That turns out to be an almost fatal mistake. the trunk contains not clothes or vauables, but a music box. It's as big as a man's torso, made of metal, gears and it looks ominous to Daud, which is impressive and worrisome for some hunk of metal. His instincts turn out to be right, because one Overseer manags to turn the crank while hiding behind the others and the music has to be the worst thing he has ever heard. It doesn't even sound like music, like sound, but, by the Outsider, it hurts. It presses against his skull like a building has fallen on it, makes his blood run cold – literally – and his mark burns. He doesn't scream, but it's more due to his muscles locking up than effort of willpower. He can't move, can't fight, can't escape, he can't -   
Suddenly he's back, 12 years old (that's how old Emily is now, a tiny part of his mind supplies helpfully, cruelly) and defenseless against his captors and abusers. He couldn't fight then and he can't fight now and-

Corvo saves him, both from the music and whatever dark place his thoughts are speeding towards. He shoots the Overseer's hand, stopping the music, and follows up with powerful strikes against the others. The fight is over quickly, the Overseers in chains, waiting for the watch to take them in.

But Daud doesn't notice. He has fled as soon as his powers returned, the void singing in his veins. The world is a blur of the grey sky, slate rooftops and Dunwall's concrete walls. He runs until his lungs threaten to explode and his insides burn. He's not aware of where he finally stops and his legs give out. Shaking, he sinks to the ground, rips the glove off his left hand and breathes, sobs when he sees that the mark is still there, stark black against his skin. Daud cradles his hand to his chest, on his knees, back bent, forehead almost touching the ground. He breathes in shuddering gasps, mind racing without coherent thoughts. He doesn't notice when it turns to night. 

The first thing he feels – other than the panic clawing at his throat – is Billie's hand on his shoulder. She doesn't comment on his state. Daud doesn't know, but Corvo has filled her in, having rushed to the Tower after the Overseers had been transferred to the watch. Corvo had called out a couple of times, but Daud had been in a different part of the city by then and Corvo had realized that he wouldn't be able to find Daud on his own. All the Whalers are patrolling the city, looking for their leader.  
“We all felt it,” Billie tells him. And they did. A few hours ago, their powers stopping, pain lancing through their hands. None of them have the mark, not really. Daud's shared power barely leaves a trace on their skin, the faintest outline in white, looking like old scars. They're incredibly lucky that no one had been hurt too badly. Their powers are a part of them, particularly the vanishing turned to instinct. Rinaldo had fallen, using the chandeliers in the main hall rather than the stairs, coming up short just before his target and plummeting towards the plush carpet. Desmond and Aelon had been sparring, pulling at each other's swordsarms when it happened, releasing their grips suddenly. For the first time, they realize, they have to acknowledge that Daud won't be here forever, that sooner or later he will disappoint them. 

“You hurt?” she asks, eyes taking in his huddled form, searching for tears in his clothes, for blood.   
“There was this music box,” he begins, his own voice sounding far away to his own ears, “an Overseer contraption. When it played.... it just stopped, Billie. There was nothing...”  
“Shit.”  
Daud smiles. Trust Billie to sum up the situation. He glances at her, sees her scowling, thinking, already planning to burn the abbey to the ground and destroy every damn box with her bare hands if she has to.   
She is silent as they make their way back to the Tower. She hovers close and he pretends he doesn't see how her hands are always ready to reach towards him. Normally she'd challenge him to a race, both blinking in and out of existence in flecks of ash, taunting him, teasing the old man. But not tonight, not now. 

“Thanks, Lurk,” he says when they reach the Tower.  
“Get some sleep, you look like crap,” is her reply and the familiarity warms his heart. He draws her in a headlock and drags his knuckles over her skull despite her squawks of protest.  
“I can still take you,” he offers and steps out of reach when she tries to kick his groin. That's a comfort. They're as they have always been. If she were someone else – if he were someone else – she'd ask if he was okay, if he needed anything, if there was something she could do. But they are who they are and talking isn't their strong suit. She will talk to the Whalers, plot revenge and come up with a plan to infiltrate every Overseer outpost, learn everything she can and then rain destruction down. He knows and she knows that he knows.   
“Call me when the action starts, wouldn't want to miss it,” he offers and it's confirmation, approval and the 'I'm fine' he can't say otherwise.  
“If you can keep up,” she replies and it's her relief, fierce promise and comfort.   
She always was too much like himself. 

He watches as she walks away, only opening his door when she turns the corner. Corvo is inside, pacing. His head snaps up at the sound and he's in front of Daud a heartbeat later.   
“Daud,” he says breathlessly, hands reaching out, but not touching, hovering with uncertainty over Daud's arms, as if he can't bring himself to touch Daud ever again. Shame hits Daud hard. He abandoned Corvo. Froze in the sight of danger, ran and hid like a child. It was bound to happen eventually, but Daud had hoped that it would take him longer to screw up, to disappoint Corvo and show him just how worthless he truly is. No wonder Corvo doesn't want to come any closer.   
“Are you hurt?” Corvo asks, looking over him like Billie and also failing to spot any injuries. Daud shakes his head, hangs it low. He can't bring himself to meet Corvo's eyes, can't bear to see the disappointment. 

Corvo sighs and sits heavily down on the bed. Just as Daud is about to offer to leave, Corvo pats the space beside him.  
“Sit with me?” Even now Corvo wants to make sure he's safe. Daud doesn't deserve to spend a second in his presence, not anymore.   
Still, he sinks down on the bed. The mattress has dipped under their weight and he wants nothing more than to give in and melt against Corvo's side. But he can't.   
The silence hurts like a physical punch.

“May I?”   
Daud doesn't get what he means. Reluctantly, he looks up and sees Corvo gesturing to his left hand, the bare skin pale under the faint moonlight streaming through the window. There's a knot in Daud's throat, so he just nods.   
Corvo's fingers – strong, warm – trail over the mark and trace the pattern. Daud shivers from the gentle touch. The relief of feeling Corvo is so immense he almost sobs in gratitude. He hasn't made Corvo hate him?  
“The music interfered, didn't it? Does it work again?”

“Yes,” his voice is raspy, thick with emotion.

“I'm sorry, Daud,” Corvo says softly and Daud flinches so hard he draws his hand away from Corvo.

“ _You_ 're sorry? I left you like a damn coward! I ran! I... I am sorry, Corvo!”  
He doesn't deserve any of Corvo's forgiveness or kindness and he can't deal with this. 

Corvo reaches out and Daud stares at his hands as if they treaten to strike him. Corvo lowers them, offering his empty palms.  
“I insisted on confronting them. I gave them the opportunity to use this device. You were placed in harm's way by my actions. I want to apologize for my mistakes, Daud-”  
“That's stupid!” Daud regrets the harsh words as soon as they leave his mouth, but it's as if he watches a stranger and is unable to stop him. “I froze up, didn't defend you, I was useless” he spits the word like a curse, “and then I ran away, leaving you with them. I fucked up.”  
His blood seems to boil, inside's hot, face burning in shame and anger at himself. Why can't Corvo see that Daud's bad? He's rotten and doesn't deserve anything Corvo deigns to give him but maybe a few punches and dismissal.

“I led you to an enemy with an unknown device that could have killed you. My bravado caused you pain. I was... I was trying to impress you and instead you were in agony,” Corvo insists. 

“You couldn't have possibly known that. Your plan would have worked. Corvo, you are not to blame for this.”

Corvo looks at him – is still looking at him, taking in Daud's breakdown – and despite everything, reaches out again, offering Daud his hands, palms up. Calmly, with a warm smile. Daud wants nothing more than to take them, bury himself against Corvo's chest and leave this day behind, to forget it ever happened. But he can't, he doesn't deserve it. 

Instead, he grabs his own hand tightly, fingers clasped over his mark.  
He has to tell Corvo, to make him understand.  
“I was marked when I was 12,” he begins. It feels like a confession. The words tumble out of his mouth, before he can stop himself. Corvo knows half the story, the things he told Emily that afternoon in the gardens. Now he tells him the whole, ugly truth. That Daud didn't run away for a life of adventure, that he was taken. That a man came to his school and stole him. That at 12 Daud had known more pain and abuse than any child ever deserved. He was chained in a basement, on a filthy, thin mattress, whole body aching, desperately searching for a way out. The Outsider came to him. He looks like a boy – now and all those years ago – with black hair and black eyes. Daud had always known he was more. He offered him his mark, told Daud he was interesting. That night, Daud had killed for the first time, strangling the man with the chain he'd used to tie Daud. He had hidden on a beam near the ceiling, dropped down from above, wrapped the chain around the man's neck and used his powers to get back to the ceiling. The chain – and the man - were dragged along and when Daud fell, he made sure to fall to the other side of the beam. The man was caught, the chain a makeshift noose and he was soon dead. Daud searched the body, shot the chain off with the pistol and walked out of the basement with a handful of coin, a knife that was almost a sword for him, a gun with three bullets and the resolve never to be helpless again.   
Corvo is silent as he talks. No doubt he's disgusted, but he has to know. Daud is damaged goods and will only disappoint him again. 

And Corvo – sweet, sweet Corvo – only draws him in his arms and holds him tight.   
“I get it. I'm so sorry I made you relive those feelings. But Daud-” he takes Daud by the shoulders, holds him back so he can look him in the eyes, “I promise, no I swear. You won't ever be helpless again. I'm here and I will protect you.”  
Daud's first instinct is to scoff and laugh. Protect him? He's the Knife of Dunwall, people need protection from him, not the other way around. But it's... sweet that Corvo wants to. Something in Daud unfurls like a flower. Then something strikes him like a blow of electricity. Corvo's right. This whole thing... now he has the words. He panicked because he had felt helpless. Like he had been before the mark, this whole incident reminding him of the bad times. 

In him, something breaks and he starts to cry. He hasn't cried in probably thirty years. But here, with Corvo, after the music box, his emotions crash and he can't stop himself.   
Corvo – the Lord _Protector_ , how didn't he see this coming? - draws him against his chest and finally, Daud melts. His fingers are curled into Corvo's shirt, breaths hicupping, eyes burning with hot tears. Corvo doesn't react except to draw him up so that his legs rest on the bed as well, cradling Daud between his strong limbs. He presses a kiss to the top of Daud's head.   
Daud had spent the first few years of his twenties cursing his height, wishing for just a few more inches, but he doesn't mind now, seeing as he fits perfectly against Corvo, tucked underneath his chin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wrestled with me. I feel I may be jumping the shark.

Daud probably should have paid more attention to the Whalers. His new job keeps him busy – it's a vast conspiracy to uncover while in the background the Plague still has hold on the city. He's had to adapt and improvise, walk the fine line between the usefulness of his old life and the demands of his new one. And, of course, there's Corvo and the infuriating way he manages to occupy Daud's thoughts. It's no excuse though, or at least his mind repeats that over and over again when faced with the fallout of his negligence. He relied too much on Billie, trusted his second to keep the others in line. Because when she leaves to check out the Academy, to decide if she might be interested in more than the skills he can offer her, the Whalers try to kill Corvo. 

After his recent episode – the culmination of mental trauma breaking over him like a tidal wave and then spending the night crying in Corvo's arms – Daud had felt different. For the first time, he begins to consider that maybe he doesn't have to be in charge the whole time. That someone could take care of him. It's a novel experience, but nevertheless one he wants to share with Corvo. It's as if he has found a new place, a niche where he fits and where he's allowed to be. All his life he had to take, to carve out a place in a world that has been trying to reject and kill Daud. But now he has been given one, someone invited him to share, offered instead of demanded and Daud wants to accept. It's a terribly private thought. But gentle Corvo seems to have heard it, the way he always seems to know what Daud is thinking and accepts what he can give him. He makes space on the couch he sits on and while Daud doesn't always accept – can't bring himself to take greedily like everyone's always taking and taking – Corvo smiles whenever he does. 

Drink doesn't interest Daud, neither do fancy foods and delicacies, and he has refrained from smoking ever since Emily complained about the smell. It makes his mind often restless, fingers twitching. Corvo has said jokingly that Daud is a difficult person to shop for – Billie had overheard and retorted that Daud needs a hobby, maybe he should take up knitting which is basically stabbing wool into scarves (in her defense, neither she nor Daud or Corvo really know more about that craft).   
Corvo however gets an idea later.  
Thomas brings back a case of pear soda from a trip to Karnaca and when Daud shares a bottle with Corvo, they both reminisce abot their childhood and the cheap drink they both love.   
“The soft smile on your lips is worth of a great painting, if I weren't so selfish, because that is a look I don't want to share with anyone,” Corvo confesses, head pillowed on his crossed arms over the back of the sofa, watching Daud take a sip.

Daud coughs, nearly spitting up the drink.   
“You can't just say things like that!” he protests, face burning red.

“But it's true,” Corvo replies, “I like watching the hard knife melt away to reveal you. I'd speak a thousand words if one of them might make you smile.”

Daud sets down the bottle - hard, glass clinking on the polished wood of the table – and has to grip the edge to stabilize himself. The rustle of clothes tells him that Corvo has stood up. He can almost feel his warmth walking up behind him, a long line burning up his entire body. Corvo picks up his right hand, pressing a faint kiss to the back. His left arm goes around Daud's body, palm pressing against his side. Daud scrapes together every last bit of courage he can muster – chastising himself, because how could he ever be afraid of Corvo? - and turns in Corvo's loose embrace. Corvo's arms circle his waist, comforting but not restrictive. Daud can't bring himself to raise his eyes, the weight of Corvo's gaze too much to bear. But he wants to, he wants this and finally, finally presses a kiss to Corvo's cheek. It's a meager offering, short and clumsy. Corvo's delighted laugh might be the best thing he ever heard and he's sure that the smile he sees, when Corvo takes his face in his hands and pulls him in for another kiss, shines brighter than the sun. It's the first time Daud initiated a kiss … ever. In his mind it had been an unsurmountable hurdle, higher than the highest mountain. It's easy. Corvo showers his face with kisses and Daud bites his lip, but it's not enough to hide the smile pulling the corners of his mouth apart.   
“Your beard tickles,” he offers.  
“I'm not shaving,” Corvo replies, almost automatically.  
That gets Daud to laugh.  
“It was merely an observation, not a complaint.”  
This is probably the happiest he's been in years. Of course it's ruined a few days after. 

 

 

He feels that something is off as soon as he returns to the Tower. There have been rumors of strange events happening at the outskirts of the town and it would be irresponsible to ignore any possible threats, especially at that time. He found what he imagines the Outsider's studio would look like if the god took up painting. It's been disconcerting, to put it mildly, and he needs to send some Whalers to investigate further while he informs Corvo. Almost as soon as he enters the door, he feels his mark prickle. Normally he can't feel it when a Whaler uses his powers, but when enough of them do at the same time, he does register that. He's on high alert immediately. A threat? Here in the Tower? Daud uses his powers, the world sinking into shadows while golden figures appear. In the cellar, underneath him, there's a circle of men, surrounding someone. Without losing a second, Daud acts. He draws on more of the void, disappearing in flecks of ash, reappearing instantly meters away. The blood seems to boil in his veins, lungs burning. 

He's through the doors, blade in his hand, ready to defend-

It's Corvo. The man surrounded by the Whalers is Corvo.  
He's on his knees, held down by green tendrils of power. That was what he felt – every single Whaler tethering Corvo, immobilizing him. Corvo's face is like stone. 

“What in the Void is going on? Stop this!” Daud orders. He's shaking, from shock, fury, fear, confusion... he can't tell. 

“It's okay, sir,” Thomas addresses him. Daud has to go by the voice, since the Whalers are wearing their old masks, over guard uniforms, commoners' clothes. It should look ridiculous, but it's terifying, the lenses reflecting a single lantern they brought down with them. So this is what so many people saw right before the end... 

“He won't hurt you,” Galia says, her voice full of anger. 

Daud doesn't understand.   
“What?”

“Dmitri saw you,” Thomas starts to explain. He is gripping a knife in his hand, whole body speaking of tension and cold fury, “after the sparring session this morning.”

Sparring with Corvo isn't unusual. In fact, Daud's probably been more comfortable during their training fights than he has been otherwise, the weight of a blade and the dance of a fight comforting to him. He hadn't even gotten hurt, not even a bruise. And afterwards, safe from prying eyes, Corvo had cornered him. Bracing an arm against the wall to Daud's right, Corvo's right hand tipping Daud's chin upwards, bending over to whisper in his ear. Under the pressure Daud can't even recall what he had said, something charming about Daud's skill with a blade. The only thing he remembers with clarity is how he had blushed, grown weak in the knees and needed a moment (or five) to compose himself before heading off to the changing room. 

“The Lord Protector won't harrass you anymore, Daud,” Desmond says, interrupting the whirlwind of his thoughts. Wait, that's what they think? 

“We've done it before,” Desmond pipes up, trying to sound confident and reassuring and failing utterly. 

“Before?” Daud can manage to bring out before something chokes him up from the inside. 

“Lady Gramsworth. And Bromley Halstead,” Thomas confirms.   
Daud has to refrain from shuddering. He remembers those people. Lady Gramsworth had hired him. She had certain unusual tastes, but when her latest toy of a lover had objected too much about her capricious use of whips – and a brand if he recalled correctly – she wanted to have him killed. She had come up to Daud, remarking on his body and had described what she'd do to him if she had the chance, musing how he'd look chained to her bed, blindfolded and helpless under her tender care. He had calmly informed her of the prize before leaving, Thomas and Rulfio flanking him. In the end, he had been spared from interacting with her after Lady Gramsworth had been found dead, hung from the chains she liked so much. Daud had chalked it up to the lover getting to her first, glad to have been spared from ever seeing her again and the unsettling feeling she had managed to evoke. That had been about 8 years ago. 

And Bromley Halstead... his skin crawled when he heard that name. He had encountered Halstead during his first few years, back before he had gotten the nickname, just starting out. Halstead was from new money, vain and convinced the world owed him. He wanted to hire Daud to kill some girls in a brothel, spouting how they had deserved it, refusing him. He'd teach them what it meant to refuse him, that he could buy anyone with his money. Including an assassin; who was also selling his body to the highest bidder. He had remarked that he could do to Daud what he wanted, too, since service was service and he had paid good money, now he got to tell Daud what to do. That had been during the time when Daud had nothing but five teenagers to look after and had taken any jobs he could find. And also Halstead had been found dead the next morning, Daud too grateful to think about it.

“You ...protected me?” he says, fumbling with his words. 

The Whalers all turn to look at him. 

“We will make sure no one forces unwanted advances on you,” Rinaldo says, “and when we saw the Lord Protector cornering you...”

“You'd risk your position in the Tower?” Corvo asks, “your safety? Face the wrath of an empire? For Daud?”

“Naturally,” Thomas responds and the others nod. As if it was no question at all. As if throwing away their new lives was an acceptable trade. 

Void, when they had met Halstead... Daud had been around 25, meaning that Thomas had been no older than 16. 

“Release Corvo,” Daud says. His voice isn't firm enough for an order. But there must be something inside, because the Whalers stop. Corvo sags forward. Daud kneels beside him. 

“I'm so sorry,” he begins. 

“If he's coercing you in any way-”

“Corvo's advances aren't unwanted. Now shut up and go!” he shouts. The emotions threaten to overwhelm him, drown him under their weight. 

A soft “oh” is the last he hears from the Whalers as they vanish. 

 

“Did they hurt you?” Daud asks, hands hovering over Corvo, not sure if he's allowed to touch, if he would be welcome. 

“They did nothing more than frighten me,” Corvo reassures him, then Daud's fear dissolves as Corvo draws him into an embrace. 

“I should be the one to comfort you,” Daud protests weakly, burrowing into Corvo's warmth, holding onto his arm. 

“It's alright.”

“You were just threatened with murder,” Daud mutters, still can't believe that he was this close to losing Corvo...to his Whalers, to make things worse. 

“I'm sure you'll put them straight.”

“Let's get you to your room,” Daud suggests, wanting to put distance between them and this room and this whole mess as soon as possible. 

Corvo does shiver a little, more shaken than he wants to appear. They lean on each other as they make their way upstairs. Corvo crawls into his bed and reaches for Daud. He doesn't even think before sinking into his arms. Corvo tucks him under his chin and holds him tightly. It occurs to Daud that holding someone might be as comforting to Corvo as being held is to him. Lord Protector indeed. 

“Harming you is unforgiveable,” he begins, pressing a hand over Corvo's chest, relieved by the steady heartbeat he feels, “I should have noticed something in their behaviour. Or just told them. It's my fault.”

“Your secrets are yours, you don't owe anyone what you don't want to reveal.”

How can Corvo be so stubbornly noble? 

“But I caused you harm.”

“I wasn't harmed. I do need some time to think this over, but... I think I get it, in a way.”

“How can you even say that?”

“They thought you were being hurt and sought to remove the threat in the way they know best.”

“Murder. I fucked up so much. I made them into murderers and their first solution to any problem is to kill. I ruined them-” his voice fails him. 

“We can address this. Tomorrow. Or next week. I feel like sleeping for days.”

It's ridiculous. They're both fully clothed, their boots hanging over the edge. Corvo deserves his rest. He deserves so much more, more than what Daud can give him. More than what Daud is capable of giving, of being, but he wants to try nontheless.


	7. Chapter 7

Daud has finally figured out how Corvo can be so noble and understanding all the time. He isn't actually noble and understanding all the time, only at select times to select people. During the rest, he is a vindictive little shit and Daud is absolutely smitten once he sees that side. 

After a stern talking to the Whalers including lessons on privacy, communication and mainly not trying to kill Corvo, Daud thinks that this episode is over. Sadly, he has overestimated the emotional maturity of the Whalers by a mile. Corvo hasn't and he's taking advantage. 

It takes Daud a while to notice though. To be fair, he has been focusing mostly on Corvo. He seeks him out even more than usual and has apparently gotten into the habit of hovering. Daud is duly embarrased when people – Billie – point it out, but Corvo takes it in stride. He beckons Daud closer and is happy to share his space so that the ball of razorwire that must have appeared in Daud's chest after the threat can slowly unspool and fade. Daud's been so afraid of rejection that Corvo's acceptance feels like benediction. Corvo has assured him multiple times that he isn't mad at Daud – and not afraid of or disappointed in him either – and gathers him in a hug. 

“First, I wouldn't hold you accountable for someone else's actions,” Corvo's voice rumbles from his chest and Daud presses his cheek closer, not content with hearing, but needing to feel, too - “and second, they were trying to protect you. They went about it in an utterly misguided way, but they wanted you to be safe and how can I fault them for the same sentiment that I share?” 

 

 

The first time happens during a sparring lesson. The Whalers and he need to practice their skills, stay sharp. Corvo comes too, not always, since he has other duties, but often enough. It's awkward when he shows up. Daud remembers with a violent flush how the Whalers must have seen them talking after the last time and how that lead to Corvo's abduction. The air is thick with tension as Desmond, Rinaldo and Thomas stare down Corvo, as if daring him to try something. Corvo is unconcerned and even smiles, which seems to make matters worse. Daud does his best to diffuse the situation – and no, he can't kick all their asses to take all their minds off things. He asks Corvo if he was in the mood to show off his footwork, instead. At his request, Corvo tells him it would be his pleasure and begins with a demonstration. Out of the corner of his eye, Daud keeps checking on Desmond and Rinaldo while Thomas is in the ring. They're still vaguely uneasy, but also interested in the lesson. Corvo is magnificent to behold. Soon, he enthralls Daud as well and he feels his mind slipping from his concern to appreciation for Corvo. It's clear that Corvo has spent years perfecting his craft, no motion unnecessary, no wasted effort. It's different from how he and his Whalers move and fight. He has no otherworldly powers to rely on, but it's clear he would be a match for them. Maybe not against a dozen Whalers at once, but he could hold his own against two or maybe even three. Corvo of course notices Daud's gaze – appreciative, focused, fond – and gives him a broad smile before wiping the floor with Thomas. Daud brings over a bottle of water for him and a towel. He accepts both and drinks deeply while Daud goes over the fight with Thomas, pointing out how Corvo defeated him and how Thomas can work on improving himself. Thomas looks decidely unhappy, which is a bit uncommon, since he never has had much hard feelings about fights before. But Daud supposes that he just doesn't like being beaten by someone he had at his mercy a few days before and then he puts the whole situation out of his mind when he walks back and Corvo reaches for his hand. Daud accepts, insides growing pleasantly warm as their skin touches and Corvo laces their fingers together. 

 

 

Two days later, he is talking with Galia in his office. Well, it's their office as he shares it with Corvo or more precisely Corvo had just cleared off his desk so that Daud could use it while he did some paperwork while sitting on the couch. The scratch of the quill is comforting as is Corvo's quiet presence. A map of the Estate district is pinned to the wall, colored pins marking the location of vantage points and a safe house. He goes over her mission, pointing out possible routes. Corvo gets up from the couch and walks over. With a finger he draws the usual guards' routine, giving her more information on how to best get around unseen. His other hand finds its place on the small of Daud's back. The scowl on Galia's face is impressive and frightening. She must think that they underestimate her, that the think they need to explain the obvious to her. She's one of the best infiltrators Daud has ever seen, but he needs her to be cautious. His attempt to smooth her ruffled feathers doesn't seem to work. Daud says that he trusts her judgement and she looks at them like she wants to strangle them with her gaze. When she disappears, Corvo asks if he is feeling alright. Daud shares his concern, and Corvo hums in understanding. He presses a kiss to Daud's temple.

 

 

He does grow suspicious of the continued hostile behavior. He does not know how to make the whalers understand that Corvo isn't behaving untowards him. He has tried talking – he's not a man of words and clearly unused to talking about feelings of all things, so he supposes he might not have been as clear as another man could have been – and when that had failed to yield positive results, he tries to be more demonstrative with his actions. Surely they can't keep on thinking that Corvo is somehow manipulating Daud if it's Daud who seeks him out, who reaches for his hand and who sits down next to Corvo, pressing himself close. Corvo is a balm for his frayed nerves, but the Whalers clearly think otherwise. 

 

 

The words which finally clue him in come from Emily. She's very perceptive and follows in her mother's footsteps, learning how to read a room and what people feel. Rulfio and Dmitri act as her bodyguard today, and Daud is relieved when they finally behave normally when he enters the room. Emily is taking a break from her lessons, trying to convince Rulfio to teach her how to climb things she definitely shouldn't be climbing, like the drainpipe next to her window on the outside of the Tower. Daud supposes he might be to blame since he showed her how to best scale a bookcase and hide on top.   
“I'm sure you climbed lots of things when you were my age,” she tries to sway his stance.  
Rulfio was a street kid once upon a time. His parents died on the voyage to Gristol and instead of the new life they'd been dreaming about, they were tossed overboard, their son in the end resorting to hiding in Dunwall's alleys and live off the scraps the gangs left over. That was when Daud had found him, backed into a corner by the Drowned Boys, a gang from the docks that had ceased to exist not shortly after that day. They had insisted on him paying their special tax and if he couldn't pay, they'd accept fingers instead. Daud had been on his way to a bakery for some flatbread for the hungry mouths at home. He'd come home with a bloodied coat, a bag of ox pies and Rulfio in tow, holding his own paper bag filled with pastries and the coins taken from the gang members in his pocket. And if Daud went out again at night to make sure that the Drowned Boys would do something to deserve the name, well... no one cared. 

Daud could practically see Rulfio telling Emily exactly what things he'd done at her age, watch the words tumble out of his mouth.  
“How about you go to the kitchen and ask – nicely – for some sandwiches while I explain what a terrible idea climbing something near a lethal drop is?” he suggests and Rulfio grins in gratitude, leaving with a spring in his step in the direction of the kitchen. 

Dmitri mutters that Daud didn't have such reservations when he'd moved them to their old hideout where a fall might be the least likely thing to kill you.   
Daud drags his finger over his own throat, silently promising to do just that to Dmitri with a knife instead of a finger if he didn't shut up. Emily giggles.   
When the door opens, it's Corvo and not Rulfio.  
Emily jumps into his arms and Daud's gaze is immediately drawn to him. He smiles at the picture he sees. He could spend a thousand years looking at Corvo and never cease to enjoy the sight. 

Rulfio enters with a tray of sandwiches and the pleasant expression on his face turns sour in a second. He sets down the tray with more noise than necessary and leaves immediately after. Dmitri chases after him. Daud is just confused. Things had seemed better...and Corvo hadn't even interacted with him, just with Emily. 

Corvo sees that something is bothering Daud and he comes closer, Emily still on his hip.

“Are you alright, Daud? You look worried,” she begins.   
His first instinct is to reply that everything is alright, but that isn't true and it's plain to see.  
“Are you worried about the Whalers? They're being mopey all week,” she continues her investigation. Daud hopes that Corvo hadn't told her what happened, hopes that no ones knows. He still feels like it's his fault. 

Corvo agrees with her. “I noticed that, too. They look upset.”

He doesn't look concerned. Not even slightly troubled. In fact..... he looks smug. 

Emily puts 2 and 2 together before Daud has even realized what is going on.

“They're jealous, aren't they? But that's silly!”

Oh. They're not concerned... they're jealous of Corvo! Daud's been too preoccupied with him to notice. The Whalers had only scowled when Daud had interacted with Corvo. He looks back with renewed clarity and sees it – praising Corvo, seeking his touch...all his efforts to appease them had only riled them up. Apparently they get their bad communication skills from him. He's been an idiot. 

Corvo and Emily can seem to sense his turmoil and drop down next to him, one on each side. 

“Mummy explained it to me. Just because you like one new person doesn't mean you like your family and friends any less.”

“Those are very wise words, Lady Emily,” Daud has to admit. He knows it's true, but he supposes his Whalers must have felt abandoned nontheless. 

And Corvo had known. Daud levels a glare at him, but Corvo shrugs. He mouths something which looks like “deserve it”. That's also true. He doesn't look bothered at all. He's grinning. That bastard – he'd known exactly what was going on. 

“But it wasn't nice of Corvo to tease them, I guess.”

That makes him look sheepish. Serves him right. 

“You and Mummy talked to me. You should have talked to them, too. They're actually really nice,” Emily admonishes him. 

Corvo had talked to Emily? Had he asked for permission? Is that what Daud shold have done? Seeked their counsel before starting this....whatever this is that they have? 

This is a conversation easier without a child – no matter how perceptive and wise she seems to be – and Corvo sends her off with the sandwiches to look for the Whalers. It would work, Daud thinks. They like Emily and free food. 

 

“You knew?” Daud asks. 

“You've heard her. I saw childish jealousy and thought they deserved to stew in it for a while.”  
Corvo looks devastatingly handsome when he grins like this. Daud tells himself that he should probably try to be angry, but he can't. Corvo has more than deserved his revenge and if it manifested in... what has he done? Nothing really. Stayed close to Daud, showered him with affection and did all of it while the Whalers watched and scowled. 

“And here I thought you were selfless and noble and I couldn't believe how good you were... you're just as bad as me!”

Corvo laughs, loud, hearty and draws Daud closer. Daud is halfway in his lap, looks into his handsome face and melts. He bestows a slow, lingering kiss to Corvo's lips.

“I am horrible,” Corvo admits, a wide grin pulling his mouth apart. His hands travel over Daud's body, as if he can't keep them off and wants to draw him closer while still trying to look his fill. 

 

“I should probably talk to them. Clear up this mess,” Daud muses, being distracted as Corvo places a ring of kisses around his neck.   
“Are you trying to leave a mark?” Daud asks suddenly, wary of Corvo's lips and teeth.   
“I'm trying my best not to, actually,” Corvo confesses, “one part of me, the petty one, wants to mark you up for all the world to see, to announce that you're mine and to lay claim to your being. But I would never, not without your permission and while I am … amused by the thought of the Whalers seeing any trace of me left on your body, I wouldn't betray your trust, especially not for sheer pettiness.”  
Daud is left speechless, as he often is after Corvo's ministrations, intimidated by the words he can string together so easily. 

“We can talk to them later, if you want,” Corvo offers, hands coming to rest on Daud's waist, thumbs drawing idle patterns on his vest.   
We.... Daud has never really been part of a 'we' before. It feels nice. 

“I think I'd like that,” Daud admits. 

“Can I hold your hand while doing it?” Corvo asks with a grin, and then doubles down as he sees Daud's flushed face, “or suck a mark on your neck first, show off that you're mine?   
Daud squirms, not sure how to handle the heat that rises to his face.  
Corvo seems to enjoy that, tightening his hold, continues speaking with his face pressed to Daud's stomach, beard rasping over the fabric of his black vest.   
“I'd like you to wear my coat, too, seeing your wrapped up in my clothes is a singular tatalizing image that has kept me awake for long. Maybe we can send for them, have them meet us here with you on my lap.”  
Daud hides his face against Corvo's throat, releasing a keening voice that he'll always deny making. 

“You enjoy teasing me,” Daud accuses him.  
“Yes,” Corvo confirms bluntly, “but only if you like it. If it's too much, I will stop and humbly apologize. I should have thought more about your feelings in this matter instead of annoying the Whalers.”  
He's sincere.  
Daud slumps against him. Noble....but for Daud. That's too much to handle, for him to process. 

 

“Just a small one,” he says, drawing the collar of his shirt away from his neck. 

“You don't have to – not for my sake,” Corvo says, suddenly serious. 

“It's not for you... or to get back at the Whalers. I want this, Corvo.”  
There is a sharp difference, he realizes, between him offering and others demanding. He'd recoil in disgust if this had been taken by force, if he had been held down and made to endure, but in offering this... in giving himself to Corvo, he feels different. 

Corvo's lips whispering at his throat shock him out of his thoughts.  
“Maybe at another time,” Corvo suggests. He places a final kiss to Daud's throat. 

“After we've talked?” Daud gives him.

“Only if you still feel like it,” Corvo says firmly. 

He never had this happen. Someone refusing his offer, not jumping at the first chance to take and take and take.   
Corvo's different.


	8. Chapter 8

Emily is kicking her legs, watching the Whalers spar. Daud's relieved she seems a bit bored. He's dreading the day when she asks for a sword of her own and wants to join them. But today she's impatient, waiting for Desmond to be done so he can show her how to braid hair in the latest fashion. She has asked Daud before and while he has some experience braiding hair (it had started as a necessity to keep hair from their faces, truly, and he has not taken lessons from a girl from the Cat to expand his repertoire, absolutely not) he himself lacks the length for her to practice on. Desmond has hair to his hips and looks for every opportunity to show it off. 

The Whalers done and walk up to them.   
“Satisfied with our training?” Dmitri asks.  
“You swing like a Tyvian swineherd, Desmond stumbles like a drunken whaler and Galia, you couldn't hit a house if it came at you,” Daud rattles off.  
“Isn't that a bit mean, Daud?” Emily asks, her big eyes disapproving.  
“That's high praise coming from him. He's usually not this nice,” Dmitri says as if it's a big secret.   
“Daud!” Emily protests, pressing her hands to her hips and trying to look down on him. It doesn't quite work since he's taller, but she tries.   
“You have to be nicer. Always say something positive. Lead by example and talk properly,” she commands, clearly trying to emulate her mother. And maybe Daud is a big soft-hearted fool or it's really working becaue he clears his throat and offers:  
“Desmond, your swordwork has improved since last time,” he begins and stutters when Desmond beams at him, “and Galia, you're fast, use that to your advantage. Dmitri, you need to change the way you're holding the sword. Let me show you.” He takes Dmitri's weapon and demonstrates the proper way to grip this type of sword. It's not a Whalers' blade and Dmitri has neglected to take the different balance into account. Then he passes it back to Dmitri and positions his fingers himself.   
“I...uh... you...it's important to keep up your training,” Emily coughs at him, “and... you're not complete failures,” Daud adds.  
She looks exasperated, but the Whalers are positively shaking with excitement. Then he's ambushed and it's only his training that prevents him from bolting as all three try to hug him at the same time. It's awkward, at least for him. He pats all of them on their heads; Emily as well when she joins and hugs his left side.   
The hug goes on for too long, at least for him.  
Then Emily's off with Desmond and Dmitri and Galia run off as well, presumably to gossip. 

 

When he tells Billie after her return, she laughs until it's literally painful for her, hands clutching her sides and gasping for breath.   
“Why couldn't they have waited until after I came back? I always miss the best fun!”  
“You would have stopped them,” Daud says and hopes he's right.   
“Eventually, yeah.”

 

 

It's a strange position to be in and Daud can't say it's a place he ever expected to inhabit. But the faint unease is quelled by Corvo's presence and his warmth. Daud sits on a couch, reading a book on chemical compositions of plant extracts. Corvo comes in, smiles and asks him to sit up. Daud indulges him and has to swallow the tightness in his throat when Corvo climbs behind him, drawing Daud between his legs, resting him on his chest. It takes a few seconds to become comfortable, adjusting his position, but they manage. Corvo's arms encircle him, clasping his hands on Daud's stomach. If he were to see a mirror, Daud thinks he'd see his own face flushed from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Corvo hums and Daud shudders when he can feel the sound as well as hear it.   
“Read to me?” Corvo asks.   
“I didn't know you were interested in the toxic qualities of huntersroot,” Daud says, but does as requested anyway.  
He manages it all the way from huntersroot to jaggerstooth until they're interrupted. Thomas appears and gives a report on the last shrine he has found. Corvo shifts, using his strength to draw Daud closer. Thomas' neutral facade crumbles, making his disapproval obvious. 

“You did well,” Daud informs Thomas, not exactly comfortable with the situation, “your help has been...really helpful.”  
Corvo snorts.  
“You shut up,” Daud replies, “didn't you offer to help with the talking?”

Thomas seems oddly pleased by that.   
“Talk about what?” he asks innocently. 

“It has come to my attention that you're unhappy with … things,” Daud begins. Corvo is much better with words, but seems disinclined to do anything that might be beneficial for Thomas and the other whalers. 

“Understatement of the year, sir,” Thomas confirms. 

“Is it because you're …. you don't like Corvo, you're protective or …. jealous?” Daud asks, wanting to sink into the couch and disappear from the room. He's not too proud of the fact that he has checked whether he could use his powers to flee through the window. 

“To be honest... a bit of all three,” Thomas begins. “You haven't shown interest in anyone ever and we just want to make sure you're okay. But someone has been a smarmy git and pawing all over you and then you... you don't pay attention to us anymore. You ignore us!”

And there is the truth. 

“You did kidnap me to the basement and threatened to kill me in very imaginative ways,” Corvo points out and Thomas rolls his eyes, as if it wasn't that strange or unsettling.   
“That was a slight overreaction,” he admits.

“If you feel like I've been neglecting you in favor of Corvo, then only because I wanted to show you that he wasn't unwanted. I'm fine with him touching me.”  
Corvo proves his point by sitting up more and drawing Daud flush to his chest. Daud never thought he'd have a heart to heart while sitting in someone's lap. Not that he thought he'd spend any amount of time on anyone's lap. He lets go of the book and places a hand over one of Corvo's. 

“You've shown that,” Thomas replies surly.

“And you're acting like a bunch of brats,” Corvo counters.

“You started it!”

How did he get into the middle of this childish bickering? Daud wonders.

“You never had to share Daud,” Corvo explains, “and now you do and don't like it. I can understand that. I can even understand that you're antagonizing me every chance you get and that you go out of your way to inconvenience me, like breaking into my bathroom and stealing my soap or going through my laundry and swap my shirts for a smaller size.”  
Thomas tries not to grin, bites his lip, but Daud recognizes it, mainly because he does the same thing, too. He's proud of their antics. 

“I pay attention to you. I never stopped,” he tells Thomas. At that, Thomas looks him directly into the eyes. The emotion Daud sees is... is that hope? Mixed with fear?   
“You're my.... you're mine, and that will never change. I have pulled you from the gutter” (or the streets, or from boats, or out of houses where they were neglected, one or two even from a noble home that was unfit for them) “taught you, raised you and kept you. And now with Corvo... you don't have less. You have more.”  
Daud doesn't know where the words came from. He's shaking, feeling exhausted from nothing but talking. His heart feels like it's made from lead....molten lead. 

“Daud, I... I don't know what to say,” Thomas confesses. His face is red, too, looking overwhelmed.   
“Maybe tell the others? I don't think I'm up for repeating that entire thing a dozen times,” Daud suggests or rather, pleads.  
“I think most of them were listening through the door anyway,” Corvo adds. Daud buries his face in his hands but can't resist a peek with his supernatural gaze. Outside of the room, there is a heap of golden figures, plastered to the door, squashed together, literally standing on each other, close like the world's weirdest puppy pile.   
Daud groans. “Go away, you mongrels and bother someone else!” he shouts and with a flurry of ash, all the Whalers, including Thomas, vanish.

He pants. Why do emotions exhaust him like he just ran from Holger's Square to Kingsparrow Island, including the swim required?  
Corvo twists his upper body to press a kiss to Daud's temple.  
“That went rather well,” he whispers in his ear.   
“With less bloodshed than I imagined,” Daud agrees.  
That seems to alarm Corvo.  
“Was that a possibility?” he asks.

“I thought it was inevitable,” Daud tells him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather short piece of fluff, more Whaler shenanigans to come in the next chapters

He's never made the conscious decision of sleeping with anyone. He'd slept in a bed with Corvo twice, both times emotionally drained and incapable of resisting rest, needing Corvo. 

His throat is as dry as the Pandyssian wastes. He keeps fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, stops, scolds himself and takes it up again a few seconds after. Corvo makes it seem so easy, casually offering assurances, compliments and makes Daud blush with a few well-placed words. 

Meanwhile Daud has been struggling for over an hour how to best phrase his request without sounding like an idiot. He's halfway through a bottle of wine and keeps crossing out suggestions. Normally he doesn't drink much if at all, but tonight he needs the liquid courage he has heard so much about. It has failed to kick in so far and he doubts that will change with the next glass. 

All his efforts are wasted when there's a knock on his door and Daud startles. The clock must be malfunctioning, how can it be so late already?   
“Enter,” he calls out and then buries his face in his hands.  
How can Daud fuck up something that simple? 

Corvo comes into the room. He spots the balled up pieces of paper, the mostly empty wine bottle and the heap of misery that is Daud. When he has reached him, he places a gentle hand on his back.  
“Are you alright? Can I do something to help you?”

“Can you teach my tongue to find proper words instead of nonsensensical babbling?” Daud says and immediately clamps a hand over his mouth. That was definitely too much to drink. Great. Corvo's been here for less than 10 seconds and Daud has embarrassed himself spectacularly.

“I'm sure that I could teach your tongue lots of nice things, especially with mine, but that's not what you want today, is it?”  
There he goes again. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Daud begins, voice muffled because his face is resting against the wood of his desk, “but everytime I say it out loud, I feel like a fool.”

“I sincerely doubt that anything you say can make me think less of you,” Corvo assures him, hand rubbing circles on Daud's back. 

“I would like it.... it would be nice if you.... you can refuse, of course. It's not the like the last time was out of very pleasant circumstances. Or the one before. And if you didn't want to be reminded of this, I fully understand. However, it was....sort of nice. And I want to do it again. But only if you want.”  
He's babbling and he knows it, but he can't stop. The words pour out like from a leaky faucet and he can't do anything to stem the tide. 

“You're allowed to want things, Daud. And although it's rather endearing when you're shy, you can just tell me.”

Endearing. Daud hasn't been endearing in his life. He's a mess.

“Sleep with me?” he asks and then groans. That's not what he meant. He's not ready; he does like Corvo, but he doesn't want something like this now, doesn't want to be rushed into this.   
“No,” he corrects himself, trying to salvage what he can salvage, “I didn't mean... I don't want to insult you, it's just...”

“In case you want for us to sleep together in one bed, I'm amenable. More than that, I'd be happy.”  
Corvo presses a kiss to the nape of his neck.   
“Holding you close is a luxury and you're a saint for indulging me,” he murmurs and Daud shivers. “I will need a few minutes to fetch my nightclothes,” Corvo announces and stands up straight. 

Oh great. Daud left with nothing but his thoughts. 

“Wait for me,” Corvo requests and then leaves Daud's room.

It's torture waiting for him to come back. Daud's pacing up and down. How could he have been so presumptuous? To think that Corvo would want this? The last time, the Whalers had abducted him and the time before, Daud had abandonded him when he had panicked after the episode with the music boxes. This is taking too long. Corvo must have changed his mind. The memories must have been too much, pushing him away. 

Then the door opens and Corvo comes in. He's carrying a bundle of clothes under his arm.   
“I already freshened up,” he explains and goes behind the folding screen. The quiet rustle of cloth sounds like gunshots to Daud. This is happening. Should he wait in bed? Wait for Corvo to take his place first? How will they arrange themselves? He'd been too out of it the last times to pay attention. His usual sleeping position is with his back to the wall, one hand clutching a dagger hidden underneath the pillow. 

Corvo emerges, clad in his nightclothes. His mind isn't troubled by the same kind of doubts Daud has and so he lifts the covers and slips into the bed.

“Join me,” he says with a beautiful smile.   
The bed may be the ocean for how unsteady it seems to Daud, giving way under his hands and knees. He hovers unsteadily. 

“How should I-?” he begins to ask.

“However you want,” Corvo begins, “I'm quite partial to holding you, if I'm honest. It's nice to feel your head on my shoulder.”

All the blood in Daud's body rushes to his face.   
He crawls closer, hesitant, even with Corvo's permission and even encouragement. 

Corvo smiles and reaches for him. With a small moan he will deny making to his deathbed, Daud sinks down, laying his head down where Corvo likes it. Corvo sighs happily and holds his hands, squeezes gently, before pulling them to his own neck. Grateful, Daud holds on. 

“Good night,” Corvo whispers, pressing a last kiss to the top of Daud's head. 

And it truly is.


	10. Chapter 10

He's still a bit angry with the Whalers. While they have stopped interfering with them – as in Daud and Corvo – they still inconvenience him at every turn. Someone smuggles a hagfish into his boots. Someone – presumably a different someone – replaced the ink from his desk with lime juice. And then someone hides all his hairties. At least the last one backfires spectacularly since it gives Emily the idea to put her new braiding skills to use and practice on him. And she invites Daud to do the other side, since Corvo has “so much hair, I could really use your help”. The smile he gives Emily is happy, indulging and appreciative. Daud gets a kiss to the back of his hand for his troubles.   
As he blushes, Corvo presses another one to his cheek. 

Emily walks away to speak to her mother, and Corvo grows bold. Daud is sitting next to him on a couch, hands clasped in his lap. In front of them there is a low glass table with a bowl of fruit and a book. Corvo pushes the table away with his foot, creating more space.   
Daud looks on with a narrow look of suspicion. No, not quite suspicion. It's the look he always gets when Corvo is about to do something nice and Daud is sure he doesn't deserve it. Like he doesn't quite comprehend being cared for. Corvo moves slowly, telegraphing his every action so Daud can stop him if the wants. He sits down closer to Daud, their thighs touching. Carefully, he raises his left arm and places it around Daud's shoulders. At first, Daud is as stiff as a plank of wood and about as responsive, too. Then he releases a shuddering breath and deflates, as if he's melting into Corvo's side.   
“That's better,” Corvo voices his thoughts, maybe too bluntly, because tension creeps back into Daud.   
“I meant no offense,” he assures Daud.  
“I'm not offended, I'm...” he searches for the proper words, frowns when he can't think of the right ones, “weird.”  
“I've seen you vanish into a cloud of ash, I already know you're weird,” he teases, drawing Daud closer to press a kiss to his temple.  
“That's... “  
“I know,” he reassures him quickly, “you're not used to this. And I want to change this. I intend to shower you in affection until your face forgets how to blush anymore.”  
As if on cue, Daud does blush. But he relaxes, slumps against Corvo's side, so he counts that as a win.   
“I just don't get why. What do you see in me?” He sounds hesitant, almost afraid. As if by mentioning this he has broken the spell and Corvo will realize just how wrong he was to choose Daud. Daud burrows into him, pressing closer. 

“The first time I saw you, you were breaking into the palace. I admit that this wasn't a good first impression.”  
Daud snorts.   
“I thought you were arrogant. That you thought so highly of you and your opinion, as if everyone else was an imbecile and hardly worth your time.”  
Daud is about to reply that that frequently is the case, but Corvo is faster.  
“You did help to save Jess and Emily, so that already put you in my good graces. And then,” he cards a hand through Daud's hair, messing it up in his favorite way, “I saw you and the Whalers.”  
“And they were such a mess that even I looked favorably in comparison?” Daud guesses.  
Corvo smiles, because he highly suspects, no, he knows, that only Daud can say things like that about his Whalers; everyone else would be threatened with bodily harm before being actually harmed.   
“They're your children. And you're an amazing parent. That first made me see you in a different light. Afterwards I noticed more and more. How clever you are. How you never let go of something that has your interest. I saw just how much of a heart resides behind that hard shell. I can't resist that.”  
Daud is silent. Corvo can only feel his breaths puffing against his neck, the warmth next to him.   
“Are you sure?”  
Corvo wants to laugh if he didn't know that Daud would take it the wrong way.   
Corvo can actually tell Daud why he loves him and Daud finds a way to not believe that very words he had just said.   
“I think it was when Billie and Thomas were arguing about whether to officially join the guard, at least in order to keep up appearances. You stopped the fight, calmly laid down the advantages and disadvantages, then advised them. You helped them on their way but allowed them to choose for themselves. That was... just how I'd like to handle things with Emily.”  
There are no words from Daud, just a hand reaching for him, the overwhelming emotion so thick in the air he could taste it. Daud won't meet his eyes, but he searches for his hand, desperate to hold on to something. Desperate to hold on to him.   
Smiling, Corvo lets himself fall backwards while keeping his grip on Daud tight, drawing him down until Corvo is as far slouched on the couch as he can be, head resting on the armrest. With just a few more tugs, Daud is arranged on top of him, head resting on Corvo's chest, legs tangled together. Corvo feel selfish for assuming his favorite position, but he thinks that Daud won't mind too much.   
“We're both too big for the couch,” Daud mutters after a while. And while it's not physically comfortable, it soothes him so much that somehow, it is.   
“That won't get me to let go of you. I like you far too much to let something like furniture stop me.”  
“I like you, too, Corvo,” Daud whispers, hoping that his voice will be swallowed before Corvo can hear.  
Corvo beams. It's really too obvious that Daud likes him – the blushing, the way he can't express his sentiments, how careful he is with Corvo and how even the lightest touch can turn him upside down – but to hear it, to have Daud offer... it's exquisite.   
Corvo's hand draws lazy patterns on Daud's back. This is what comfort feels like, how it is to be content and safe.

Of course there's a loud crash hardly 10 minutes later. And what nice 10 minutes they had been, Daud holding his hand, warmth seeping into his core, the slight tickle of Daud's hair against his throat, to feel his heartbeat.  
Corvo is instantly alert, wanting to jump to his feet, but Daud merely groans and hides his head.   
“Whalers,” he offers as an explanation. He must have used his powers, their bond, to find that out.  
“No danger then?”  
“Oh yes, there will be. Me, once I get to them,” Daud grumbles and gets to his feet. Corvo is pleased to see how reluctant he is.   
“We can continue this conversation in bed later,” Corvo suggests, “you can lie on my chest while I tell you why I adore you.”  
Even the tips of Daud's ears flush red.


	11. Chapter 11

At long last the Plague was cured. Sokolov and Joplin had come up with a working cure that was now being synthesized by every capable pharmacist in Dunwall. It meant that people had hope; hope that their families could be saved. Hope that things would get better. Hope that the darkest times were finally over. The barricade had been lifted and ships were expected, carrying materials for rebuilding along with workers.   
It also meant that, after a long absence, Sokolov returned to his duties as royal physician. It meant that sooner or later he would run into Daud. 

Daud dreaded the day already and the Whalers had picked up on his unease.   
He made it very clear that Corvo has nothing to do with it and he would appreciate it if they stopped messing with him. The Whalers still tease him and play pranks, but Corvo retaliates now, with Daud's blessing, and the Whalers soon realize that that's a fight they cannot win. 

Sometimes, one of them tries, but the pay-out is never worth it. Sometimes Daud even looks at them disappointedly. 

 

Jessamine has an appointment with the royal physician and Corvo accompanies her. Daud watches over Emily during her studies. Her tutor is still wary of Daud and he can't find it in himself to blame her. Emily keeps folding pieces of paper into shapes and discreetly throws those over to him. The first one contains a smeared doodle of her tutor and he gives Emily a grin. He is sitting at a desk in the corner, keeping watch and uses a stack of books as cover to draw on the other side of the paper before tossing it on Emily's desk while her tutor isn't looking. Emily stifles a giggle behind her fist as she unfolds the paper to look at Daud's sketch of Miss Curnow. Back at the Academy people had always told Daud that he had a great eye for picking up details, but lacked the finesse to accurately portray them. He supposes it's a polite way of telling him that his writing and sketches look like the scratches a man buried alive might leave in a coffin lid before succumbing to death eventually. 

Footsteps are coming closer and he risks a peek with the void. Three golden figures are coming closer and he relaxes as he recognizes Corvo's shape. He is walking towards the room behind Jessamine and someone else.   
Hoping that Emily didn't see him (he has the slight inkling that using his powers makes his eyes gloss over black not unlike the Outsider) he accounces that a visitor is coming.   
“Mommy!” Emily predicts and is at the door, uncaring of the “Emily, please behave yourself” from Miss Curnow.   
The door opens and several things happen.   
Miss Curnow shakes her head slightly and begins to tidy up her desk, knowing that no more learning will be done today.  
Emily jumps up to hug her mother and Jessamine returns the embrace with a beautiful smile.   
Daud wants to look at Corvo but freezes once he recognizes the visitor.  
And Corvo sees him freeze and immediately pushes past Anton Sokolov to be at Daud's side.   
Meanwhile Sokolov beams as if someone just told him that his favorite distillery is running out of space to store their liquor and is giving away free samples of their best brandy.

Daud hopes he has schooled his face into a neutral expression quickly enough. Maybe not fast enough for Corvo, but for the rest of the world, perhaps.   
That's bad. He can't appear weak, not let people know that he needs help.   
Corvo puts himself and his broad back between Daud and Sokolov and Daud's never been so appreciative for how stupidly tall Corvo is. 

“I trust the afternoon went by without any cause for alarm,” he says as if this as just a regular talk about proceedings at court. As if it was business. 

Daud is grateful for the metaphorical shield Corvo offered him. He doesn't like others to know of their relationship and certainly not Sokolov. And naturally Corvo phrased it in such a way that Daud can tell him if he needs him to do something. 

“There were no disturbances, Lord Protector,” Daud begins, eyes fixating on Corvo's hands and how he can see them twitch, Corvo wanting to reach out but keeping himself in check. He's used to public appearances, something that Daud will likely never master himself. Luckily, Corvo's not the only one here. 

“Anton was telling me about the cure and how it worked. He made some fascinating discoveries. I thought it would be an interesting lesson for Emily,” Jessamine intervenes and Daud wants to sob with gratitude. 

“I have a few things to discuss about the guards' new training regimen,” Corvo says and Jessamine plays along.

“Would you mind doing that outside?” she suggests and Corvo reponds with “Yes, your majesty.”

Before he turns to leave, he picks up a random book from the desk to have an excuse to put himself between Daud and Sokolov as they leave. Daud has never wanted Corvo more to put his arm around Daud's side and press close   
“I'm sure we will have ample opportunity to meet later,” Sokolov calls after them, “it was a pleasure to see you again after such a long time.” He looks almost as if he wants to wave excitedly, but restrains himself in front of the Empress. 

The door falls shut behind them and Daud keeps walking stiffly until he's around a corner and there's no one in sight.   
Corvo drops the book and opens his arms, offering his embrace.   
Daud is embarrassed by how quickly he falls into it.   
“Thank you,” he whispers. Thank you for the escape, for the excuses, for how he doesn't pull Daud into a hug he might not be ready for.   
Corvo's arms reach around Daud's back and he rests his chin on Daud's head.  
“It's not like you think,” he begins and wants to bite his tongue because that's what people always say when it's exactly like it seems, no matter what 'it' is. 

“It can't be good for my career to murder the royal physician in cold blood, but I'm up for it,” Corvo offers and Daud realizes that he's only half-joking. 

“Don't bother. I was only shocked to see him in person. He was a lecturer during my time at the Academy.”

Corvo's arms tighten, like he wants to keep Daud safe by pulling him closer.  
“I've never looked at my teachers like you did just then,” Corvo probes gently, “it's alright if you don't want to talk about,” he reassures him gently. 

“Did your teachers try to chase you down to paint you?”

“What?”

Daud really should phrase this whole situation better before Corvo does go back and kill Sokolov. Words are hard.

“He noticed I was marked, or at least suspected it. There was an accident in a laboratory and … he saw me using my powers. An experiment had gone wrong, a small explosion, fumes and smoke coming from it. I pulled open a skylight with my powers to vent the room. No one questioned it when I said I pulled on the cord, but Sokolov.... he knew that the cord to that skylight had snapped a few days before. So, he suspected that I was marked and went out of his way to see me. He asked to paint me,” Daud brings his hands to Corvo's back to stroke him gently, to calm him “a normal portrait. But I didn't want to. So I ...avoided him.”

“I guess he was used to getting his way even back then?” Corvo speaks.

“I don't think any potential painting subject ever turned him down. They all think it's flattering to be painted by the great Anton Sokolov, it's an honour.”

“And you preferred to climb out of the skylight onto the roof to get away from him,” Corvo suspects. He's right...eerily so. Daud had in fact climbed out of windows to avoid Sokolov. 

He tells Corvo as much who chuckles before stepping back to get a better look at Daud. Corvo cups his face and gazes into his eyes, apparently satisfied by what he sees. Daud really is alright, he's just been surprised. 

“I was just startled. He's more annoying than dangerous,” Daud reassures him, hands carding over his shirtfront. 

“I will make sure that _he_ leaves through a window if he ever comes to close against your wishes.”

Daud knows that's no empty threat, Corvo has actually done that to people. Learning about that fact had Daud fall in love just a tiny bit more. 

“Thanks for the offer,” he tells Corvo and presses a kiss to his cheek upon which Corvo looks extremely pleased.

“If it gets me a kiss, I will gladly threaten people with bodily harm all day long.”

Daud has created a monster, it seems. He doesn't mind.   
“My hero,” he says. 

At that, Corvo ducks down to brush a kiss to the back of Daud's hand. 

 

As they leave, Corvo's arm slung over Daud's waist, Daud is unaware of the plans Corvo is already going through in his mind. It wouldn't do for the Lord Protector to go after the Royal Physician, no matter what his fantasies tell him. But there's one group of people he knows that don't like anyone upsetting Daud just as much as he dislikes it. Maybe he should have a talk with the Whalers.


	12. Chapter 12

They're up to something. Daud just knows that the Whalers are planning something and he doesn't like it one bit. Their normal ideas range from dangerous to stupid and neither is welcome here. He's trying to turn his and their lives around and it would be a lot easier if they behaved like normal human beings once in a while. He supposes that he is to blame for most of their antics in a way – he did raise them – but even he has managed to pretend to be a functional human being when the situation requires it. 

It's a small consolation that they're not scheming against Corvo again. Thomas confessed that it stopped being fun when the Lord Protector has Daud's full, enthusiastic consent of retaliation and is in need of a creative outlet. Some people have intellectual pursuits, some people drink and some people apparently install tripwires on top of bookshelves and glue socks to boots. Daud is quick to remind them that they started it and that he thusly lacks any mercy he might have for them in other situations. 

From an outsider's point of view, they appear harmless. As harmless as a horde of supernatural assassins can be, sure, but they do their best to project innocence. And that's how Daud knows that something is up. 

 

Corvo seems to suspect it, too. He offered to check on them and try to talk some sense into them. Of course Daud told him that talking was futile, but Corvo could try all he wanted. That earned him a kiss on the cheek and a small boast that Covo was not to be underestimated. 

 

It's been more than a week after his meeting with Sokolov and the man seems to have gotten over his initial burst of politeness and decorum. 

Daud crosses his path when he takes a stroll through the gardens which is an absolutely normal thing any adult might indulge in. He is not, decidely not, looking for Emily's favorite doll – an ugly thing made of cloth that she named after an old governess, he thinks – that the princess lost during her last game of hide and seek with Corvo.   
It's one of their favorite past times and it warms Daud's little black heart when he sees them having fun. She has roped Daud into playing, too, but he does have the unfair advantage of the void and can find her within seconds and he doesn't want to spoil her fun by leading Corvo to her best hiding spots.   
Plus, he might have different ideas how to play innocent childhood games – being marked at a young age, then being saddled with a horde of similarly gifted teenagers has led him to come up with a few alternative ways of playing. With the Whalers, there are endless possibilities. Up on bookshelves, clinging to windowsills from the outside, on the roof – no place it safe. Plus, there was no rule that said that you couldn't simply fight whoever was looking for you and coming up successful meant you could go look for a new spot.

Sokolov is standing next to an easel, looking to see Dunwall's skyline.   
“I intend to portray the sunset,” he informs Daud, “to symbolize the passing of this plague. The colors are breathtaking, but flee so quickly.”  
“And that explains why you set up shop a mere 4 hours before the actual event,” Daud remarks, wishing he'd bitten his tongue not seconds after.   
“I might have had ulterior motives. A Spymaster deserves a proper portrait and Burrows... it seems his current one is being used for target practice. Why not take the opportunity to make a new one?” He points to a chair next to a table. “Get comfortable and I can have the initial sketch done today.”  
Of course.   
“No,” Daud simply counters and walks away. 

 

When he mentions this encounter to Billie, she laughs. “Classic Daud,” she tells him. 

Emily is a bit more sympathetic, especially after he found Mrs Pilsen behind a linberry bush.   
“I hate getting portraits made,” she says conspiratorily, “you have to sit still all the time. And you have to look dignified and you can't smile. It's so boring!”

Corvo receives the news as Daud suspected he would. He takes in Daud with his eyes, checking for signs of stress or worse and upon finding none, smiles before tugging him to sit between his legs while he works out the tension in Daud's back with a massage.   
“And you're sure you don't want me to send him a message? I can be very persuasive,” Corvo suggests and Daud can just hear the grin in his voice.   
“Careful, Corvo, you're starting to sound like a Whaler,” is the only thing Daud responds before melting back into Corvo. 

 

Daud should have become a prophet. Should have followed in his mother's footsteps and become a hermit that everyone thinks has magical powers and give out dire warnings and cryptic comments once a week to keep the townsfolk on their toes. 

 

At first he doesn't hear about it because Sokolov himsef doesn't realize the position that he's in. After all, his study at the tower hasn't been in use for weeks. So he chalks up the first few issues to negligence, like the fact that all of his paintbrushes are missing and the labelling for all his pigments is wrong. Daud hears about Sokolov's complaints from the maids and dismisses them at first.

Then other things start to go missing. Documents. Books. Audiograph cards. That could be theft, so Daud does look into it. That's when he realizes that something is up. Those things coud have been taken during Sokolov's absence and the theft would have gone undetected. This is deliberate.   
The next missing item confirms his suspicions. 

 

Shoes.  
Sokolov has to attend a meeting in his slippers because his shoes were nowhere to be found. None of them. Jessamine suggests an overzealous maid while Corvo asks politely if Sokolov didn't merely misplace them. Daud doesn't realize that Corvo slyly implying that Sokolov was getting old could be so delightful.   
Corvo has earned himself a kiss once they're safe from prying eyes and looks so pleased with himself that it would be smugness on any other face. 

“I should probably tell the Whalers to stop,” Daud muses as they're sitting in two armchairs, hands linked.   
“Probably,” Corvo agrees, “but perhaps not just yet.”  
Daud chalks that up to their immediate present situation which he doesn't want to cut short, especially not by getting up and talking to Sokolov.   
He sighs contentedly and stays where he is. 

If he had acted sooner, maybe he would have been able to stop the next act from happening.   
A bleaching agent has found its way into Sokolov's shampoo and after spending a day with streaks over his hair and beard, he shaves the beard off.   
He laments the loss keenly, telling everybody who wanted to listen or was not quick enough to get away, that he'd had facial hair since he was 14 years old.  
Emily comments that he looks like a plucked chicken and Daud breaks out in laughter so quickly he startles himself. Jessamine looks at them both in mild disapproval before giving into a small smile herself.   
Corvo looks amused. No, more smug than amused.  
And that's how Daud knows what's going on. 

 

He confronts Corvo in their office. Well, maybe confront is too harsh a word. Corvo is working at his desk and Daud is sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper.   
“Which were your ideas and with which did the Whalers come up themselves?” he asks out of the blue.   
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Corvo says in a very unconvincing manner, laughter evident in his voice and eyes.  
“I think you're responsible for the shoes,” Daud continues before turning the page.   
“I have no idea what shoes you could be talking about,” Corvo replies and has to bite his lip, trying to contain his amusement.   
“The dye, that's all them. And mislabeling things, that's one of their favorites.”  
Daud folds the newspaper and puts it down onto the table. Corvo has stopped working and just smiles at him.  
“It was worth it,” he manages to confess before breaking out in laughter.   
Daud had told himself to stay firm, to be the bigger man, but his resolve is no match for Corvo's joy.   
“You're a cruel, cruel man, Corvo Attano,” he begins but stops as Corvo sits down next to him and takes his hand.   
“It was for you.”  
“Petty revenge?”  
“I'd do all sorts of revenge for you,” Corvo points out, then laughs again.   
Daud joins him.

“Are you telling me to stop?” Corvo inquires later.  
“I didn't say that,” Daud counters from the safe hold of Corvo's arms.   
“Good.”  
“You have already done something else, you just haven't been discovered yet,” Daud realizes.   
Corvo hums in agreement.


	13. Chapter 13

Normalcy returns to the Tower or at least what passes as normalcy in their crazy little world. Trade and international politics have been resumed, the city is being rebuilt and routine starts to settle in.

 

The public gets wind of the new spymaster's identity, but being told that complaints about the position should be addressed to the spymaster's office, most citizens decide that they're fine with it. Backstabbing was always a prerequisite for the job, so why not get an expert?

 

Corvo however notices a habit of Daud's and the Whalers that has eluded him so far. They seem to think that doors are optional. It makes for unconventional strategies, sure, and quite a few surprises to find empty rooms occupied or on the other hand, rooms suddenly devoid of occupants.

 

He starts keeping a tally and soon comes to realize that Daud absolutely avoids someone coming into a room the's inside if he can avoid it. And since he is very good at avoiding people, attempts to find Daud for official business can get quite tedious. Only Corvo has been able to fetch him for important business. He finds out how one evening when they're both in Corvo's office, sharing a bottle of something vaguely golden without a label. Fjodor gave it to Daud and if Daud doesn't hesitate to fill his glass, neither does Corvo. He's getting delightfully tipsy, wondering if it would be too forward to ask Daud for a dance. As much as Daud is elegance in motion when he fights, swift and in mastery of his body, he doesn't seem like an experienced dancer. It's something of a habit for Serkonans, a rite of passage, but Corvo remembers that Daud was taken before he hit that age and is reluctant to bring up something that could drag unpleasant memories to the surface.

 

 

Daud is polishing both their swords, cloth draped over his lap, weapon oil on the table. Any other man would have made a crude joke or an innuendo, but Corvo knows that Daud will not have even noticed the possibility for a sexual comparison unless pointed out to him. It's nice to have someone who doesn't descend into dirty humour when drunk, which is a rarity among most soldiers and guards Corvo has served with. They haven't been intimate in that way and Corvo doesn't know if they ever will be. Being with Daud isn't really that different from being with other people. They kiss, hold hands, share embraces and gentle gestures. They work well together, think alike and share an often wicked sense of humour. And if they share a bed at night, Corvo holds Daud close and doesn't think that he's missing anything, that they are lacking. Daud has opened up to him and seems often surprised at himself, comparing him now to who he was a year ago and marveling at the difference. Corvo would gladly show Daud pleasure like that, but he has no right to demand or coerce Daud by continuously offering so he doesn't.

 

Sitting with him on the couch, Daud pressing against his side, body a long line of warmth against his thigh and upper body, is hardly a consolation prize. Daud puts down their weapons and the equipment, but keeps the swords in reach.  
“I didn't know you could distill alcohol from asterid blossoms,” Corvo confesses, holding up his glass against the light. There is a fine green shimmer to the golden liquid. It's smooth as it goes down his throat but warms him from the inside as if he'd drunken molten steel.

  
A faint flush is on Daud's cheeks.  
“Fjodor can make anything into alcohol,” he begins to tell, “and recently the stuff has even become drinkable.”  
That's high praise from Daud who rarely indulges any alcohol.

  
“Isn't he one of the two who thought about applying for the academy?” Corvo asks as he drains his glass.

  
“Yes. He and Billy thought about going next semester, when there's less turmoil.”  
Daud's face goes soft, he ducks his head. Corvo can see that he's proud of his children even if he is reluctant to see them go.

  
“They're going to do well,” Corvo promises and uses his free hand to draw Daud closer, placing a warm hand on his back, “and with visiting weekends and holidays, you probably won't even have time to miss them. I can't imagine Billie passing up any opportunity to pester you.”

  
The small smile Corvo can see burns hotter than the alcohol.  
“I knew the day would come, but...” Daud trails off.

  
“It wasn't real. It was a future event that comes closer and closer. But don't worry,” he hooks a finger under Daud's chin and draws it up until Daud meets his eyes, “you taught them well and they can survive anything. A school is arguably one of the safest places they can be.”

  
There's a shiver going through Daud.  
“I know it's unnecessary,”

  
“You concerns stem from love, Daud. No one could fault you for them.”

  
Daud can't bear direct eye contact anymore and leans forward to place his forehead against Corvo's chest.  
“When did you become an expert on words, Corvo? It hardly seems fair.”

  
“You make it easy,” Corvo replies, then presses a kiss into Daud's hair.

 

 

 

They sit like this for a while, then Corvo moves back to stretch his long legs on the couch as well, pulling Daud with him until he ends up laying on top of Corvo, face tucked into Corvo's neck. Like this, Corvo can feel him breathing against his throat and imagines feeling a matching heartbeat.  
“If it eases your mind, Billie will probably be the most dangerous thing at the school,” Corvo resumes their conversation and that gets a short laugh from Daud.

  
“Billie is likely to be the most dangerous thing wherever she goes,” he concedes, “she's a strong kid.”

  
“And you gave her the tools and the training to live up to her potential,” Corvo adds quickly, before Daud can downplay his role in her life as he often does.

  
“I wonder if I did her a favour by doing that,” Daud says in a small voice, “or if I condemned her.”

  
As much as Daud loves all his children, there is a special bond between him and Billie. She's neither the oldest nor the youngest, or the only woman. Corvo suspects that their past must have been similar, but it's not his place to ask and not Daud's place to tell.

  
“She is so much like me,” Daud continues. And he's right. Both are ridiculously protective of their family, brutally honest if they need to be and both demand a lot from others if they train them.

  
“I like how you turned out,” Corvo points out before the demons of Daud's doubts can rear their heads.

  
Daud stops breathing then, before shuddering a great gasp and sinking down bonelessly, melting against Corvo's body.  
“Unfair,” he refers to his earlier statement.

 

 

 

 

They enjoy the comfort, Corvo's hand stroking up and down Daud's back, while Daud is trailing his fingers absent-mindedly over Corvo's shirt and vest.  
Then Daud stiffens and turns his face to the door. Corvo peers down, even if the motion is uncomfortable, and sees that Daud's eyes have turned black, filled with the void he has described often. His otherworldly powers don't disturb Corvo as much as they should. Daud watches someone outside, walking through the corridor judging by how he turns his head.

  
“Do you do that every time?” Corvo asks. It seems silly that he hasn't noticed before, but it makes sense that Daud would check the outside of his room for potential intruders.  
And, combined with the fact that he often favors windows over doors, explains his absence from rooms he should have been in.  
“So that's why you conveniently can't be found when people send for you.”

  
Daud shrugs. “I'm a busy man.”

  
“Who sneaks out of the window if he doesn't feel like dealing when someone knocks on his door, “ Corvo adds.

  
“I can be both?” Daud suggests and joins Corvo when he laughs.

 

 

 

“It's a habit from before,” Daud eventually concedes and Corvo has noticed the strange inflection on the last word. Daud's life is divided into several befores. Before he was taken, before he escaped, before he came to Dunwall, before he met Corvo.

  
Corvo is overcome with grief and anger at the thought of a young Daud unable to find rest in a room, always checking for enemies, monitoring the door and fleeing if he thought his situation too risky. He tightens his arms around Daud almost unintentionally, without conscious thought.

  
“Are you again fantasizing about beating up past enemies?” Daud's humour takes the bite from the violent images that appear in Corvo's mind.

  
“I take great joy in visualizing great violence raining down on anyone who ever hurt you,” Corvo confesses and Daud, being who he is, sighs contentedly.

  
“As I often do,” Daud reveals to him.

  
Corvo presses himself deeper into the couch, simultaneously wishing they had retired to a proper bed long enough for him and also being ridiculously glad they're sharing this moment right here right now.

  
"You're perfect," he says and means it.


End file.
